f 


PAKIS  IN  '67; 


OB, 


THE    GREAT   EXPOSITION, 


SIDE-SHOWS  AND  EXCURSIONS. 


BY   HENEY  MORFOKD, 

("The  Governor,") 

AUTHOR  OF   "  OVKR-SBA,"   "  SHOtTLDER-STKAPS,"   "  DAYS  OF   SHODDY,"   "  COUEAaB 
A-ND   OOWAEDICE,"   "  UTTEULY   WKECKED,"   ETC.,   ETC. 


NEW  YORK: 

GEO.  W.  CARLETON  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS. 

LONDOX:  S.  LOW,  SON  &  CO. 

MDCOCLXVII. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  ISGT,  by 

GEO.  W.  CARLETON  &  CO. 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Conrt  of  the  United  States  for  the 

Southern  District  of  New  York. 


fHEr;rTTV )  c,vT-.< 


EESPECTPULLT    DEDICATED 

TO 

o.  bai:n"beidge  smith,  esq., 

COTOTSELLOB-AT-LAW, 

OF 

KEW  TOBK   CITY,    AXD  OF    "  ■vrHILEA'n-AT,"   STATEX  ISLA>'D ; 

OLD     FRIEND 

AS   WELL   AS 

OLD  EUROPEAN  TRAVELER,  AXD  SHARER  ^nTH  THE  WETTER  DT 

THE 

GATETIES  OP  PARIS  IN  1867. 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arciiive 

in  2010  witii  funding  from 

Researcii  Library,  Tine  Getty  Researcii  Institute 


http://www.archive.org/details/parisin67orgreat00morf 


TABLE   OF   CO]^TENTS. 


About  Things  iit  General,  and  Things  Iittroductort  in  Parti- 
cular.— A  Beginning  at  Interlaken — Partial  Friends,  and  the 
Governor's  Promise — The  Serious  Error  of  Presence — Not  Too 
Much  of  Paris,  and  All  the  Countries  in  their  Glory — The  Aids  of 
Other  People Page    15 

n. 

"What  "  Paris  in  '67  "  is  Destined  to  Be. — The  Blessed  Privilege  of 
Indefiniteness  and  Indolence — "What  is  Not  "Wanted  in  Books  of 
Travel — How  to  Neutralize  all  Faults  hj  Mixing  Plenty  of  Them — 
Glimpses  to  Come,  of  the  Lake  Country,  the  Shakspeare  Neighbor- 
hoods, Switzerland,  the  Black  Forest  and  Killamey 21 

ni. 

About  the  Emperor  of  the  French,  and  His  Work  op  1867. — 
The  Governor's  Missing  Cross  of  the  Legion — Peace-triumphs  in- 
augurated by  "War-nations — The  late  Prince  Consort  and  Napoleon 
the  Third — Has  the  Latter  Done  "Well  and  Deserved  "Well  in  the 
Great  Exposition  ? 26 

IV. 
"Whereabouts  of  the  Great  Exposition — The  Champ  de  Mars. — 
"Where  is  It  ? — A  little  Definite  Information — The  Meaning  of  the 
Name  and  Origin  of  the  Grounds — Historical  Glimpse  of  the  Champ 
de  Mars  from  Louis  XV.  to  Napoleon  III. — "What  it  "Was  and 
Is 32 


yi  CONTENTS. 

V. 

How  Paris  "Prepared  to  Eeceite  Boarders." — Paris  "V^ashing  Its 
Face — French  Houses  and  French  Living — Every  Thing  to  Let — 
Lodging-Houses — The  Episode  of  Madame  W.  and  lost  Celestine — 
The  Grab  Pattern  set  by  the  Exposition — How  all  Paris  followed 
it — The  Old  Corporal's  Horse-and-Cart  Story — Scenes  in  the 
Maisons  Meublees — How  the  G-overnor  and  Anna  Maria  went  to 
the  Exposition  in  State Page    40 

The  Eagle's  Brood  in  Europe. — Something  about  National  Eagles 
and  the  Gray  Forest  Eagle  of  the  "West — Who  are  the  "  Eagle's 
Brood" — Infinite  Variety  of  Americans  Visiting  Europe — The 
Curiosity  and  Respect  Paid  to  the  Land  of  the  West  in  1867 — 
American  Peculiarities  Abroad 59 

vn. 

Thb  Cat-nival  of  Crowned  Heads. — The  Gathering  of  Royalty  at 
Paris — -How  the  Parisians  and  their  Visitors  Hunted  the  Crowned 
Heads — Reminiscences  of  Previous  Visits — How  the  Royal  Hosts 
Cover  up  Awkward  Marks  and  Ugly  Scars — Classification  of  the 
Notables — Who  were  Not  Present,  from  the  Pope  to  the  Xing  of 
tho  Cannibal  Islands ;  and  Why — The  Reception  of  the  Czar. — The 
Opera  and  Attempted  Assassination 69 

THr. 

The  Opening  op  the  Exposition,  as  Seen  bt  "  Our  Bot  Tommy." 
— The  Governor's  Corps  of  Reliable  Correspondents — Tommy, 
briefly  Sketched — How  Tommy  has  "Studied"  in  Paris — How  it 
had  Rained,  preceding  the  Opening ;  and  How  Nappy  and  Baron 
Haussmann  had  a  Little  Interview  and  Arranged  about  aa  Um- 
brella.      83 


COITTEN-TS.  yii 

IX. 
Opbning  op  the  Exposition — "Tommt's"Yersion— (Second  Paper). 
— The  Scene  of  the  Opening  Morning,  from  the  Trocadero  Hill — The 
Scene  and  Gathering  before  the  Grande  Porte — The  Emperor's  Ar- 
rival, with  Glimpses  of  Those  who  Accompanied — The  Opening 
Exercises,  including  Bad  French  and  Botheration — Some  Doubtful 
Stories  of  Fred.  Raikes Page    93 

X. 
The  Great  Exposition  Building,  Principallt  "Without. — Attempt- 
ing the  Impossible — How  the  Great  Building  differs  from  its 
Predecessors — "What  Others  have  Said  of  it — "Who  are  Responsible 
for  it — The  Building,  its  Transverse  Galleries,  Circles,  and  En- 
trances   Ill 

XL 

The  Great  Exposition  Building,  Inside  and  Arrangement. — How 

the  National  Divisions  are  Arranged ;  and  the  Comparative  Space 

allotted  to  Each — Refreshment-Room  and  Shop — "What  is  likely  to 

be  the  Destiny  of  the  Great  Building 121 

XII. 
The  Park  and  Grounds  of  the  Exposition. — Extent  and  Character 
of  the  Park — Comparative  Space  allotted  to  Each  Nation — Magnifi- 
cent Incongruity — The  Infinite  Variety  gathered  from  all  the 
"World — Sights  and  Sensations  of  the  Tour  of  the  Globe  made 
around  the  Champ  de  Mars — The  First  Half. 130 

xni. 

Pabk  and  Grounds  of  the  Exposition  (Concluded). — Continuing 
the  Promenade — The  Second  Half — The  Old  and  the  New ;  Ameri- 
can School-houses  and  Oriental  Mosques — Mohammedanism  in  the 
Ascendant — A  Glimpse  that  is  only  a  Ghmpse,  lacking  Sight,  Sound, 
and  Sensation 138 


viii  CONTENTS. 

XIY. 

BEAtTTiES  OF  THE  Paeo  Franqais. — The  Holy  of  Holies  of  the  Expo- 
sition— Landscape  Gardening  in  its  Perfection — The  Stroll  of  the 
Captain  and  the  Governor — Martial  Music,  and  the  Governor's  httle 
Story  of  John  Best — The  Serre  Monumentalo  and  the  Statue  of  the 
Empress — The  Salt-Water  Aquarium  and  its  Oddities — One  Ad- 
vantage of  Despotism Page  148 

XV. 

The  Imperial  Balls — Ball  of  the  Sovereigns  at  the  Hotel  db 
ViLLE. — The  Counselor's  Lady — Her  Introduction  and  Apology — 
Copies  of  Hotel  de  VUle  Invitations — The  Hotel  and  the  Gathering 
— The  Royal  Fireflies — Lights,  Flowers,  Music,  and  Perfume — The 
Embodiment  of  the  "  Arabian  Nights  " — The  Little  Adventure  that 
befell  the  Counselor's  Lady,  and  her  Ghmpse  of  1793  and  the  Place 
de  Greve , 157 

XVL 

The  Czar's  Ball  at  the  Tutleries. — The  Counselor's  Lady  Once 
More — A  "  Private  Ball "  of  Eight  Hundred — One  more  Glimpse  of 
1793,  in  a  Parisian  Crowd — The  Illumination  of  the  Tuileries  Gar- 
dens— The  Palace,  the  Cent  Gardes,  and  the  Master  of  Ceremonies 
— Glimpses  of  the  Sovereigns,  on  the  Throne,  among  the  People, 
and  at  Supper — Royalty  Inspected  under  an  Hundred  Thousand 
"Wax-lights 172 

XYII. 

The  World's  Jewels  m  the  Big  Casket. — ^How  Elihu  Burritt 
Apostrophized  Labor,  at  the  New  Tork  Crystal  Palace — Wealth  of 
the  World  in  National  and  International  Exhibitions — Cannon  and 
Calico,  Leather,  Lingerie,  and  Locomotives — A  mere  Glimpse 
through  the  Exposition  and  the  Picture-Gallery 194 


CONTENTS.  ix 

XYHI. 

America's  Share  m  the  Divided  Honors. — American  Disadvantages 
in  Preparing  for  the  Exposition — Arrangements  and  Misarrange- 
ments — Commissioners  and  Committee-men — The  American  Fourth 
of  July,  and  the  Dinner  at  tho  Grand  Hotel — American  Pictures 
and  Sculpture  at  the  Exposition Page  211 


XIX. 


America's  Share  'dt  the  Dfvtded  Honors — (Second  Paper). — A 
Hasty  Glance  at  American  Articles  generally — Honors  "Won  at 
tlie  "Distribution  des  Recompenses,"  and  among  the  Jury  of 
Visitors — Honors  not  "Won ;  Honors  claimed  to  be  "Won ;  and 
Honors  that  might  have  been  "Won  Very  Easily — Regretted  Ab- 
sences, and  the  Moral  against  another  Opportunity 224 

XX 

The  SroE-Snows  op  Paris. — Parisian  Theatres  and  Performances — 
The  Cafes  Chantants,  with,  some  Reflections  on  Pleasant  "Wicked- 
ness— About  the  Great  Gardens  of  Paris — Mabille,  and  an  Evening 
there,  with  more  than  Glimpses  of  the  Cancan  and  its  Dancers — 
Lawless'  little  Adventure— Other  Side-Shows ;  in  Paris,  at  Yersailles, 
St.  Cloud,  St.  Denis,  Pere  la  Chaise,  &c. — The  Bon  Marche ...    234 

XXI. 

English  Lake  Glimpses. — "What  Mr.  "W.  Suggested — How  the  Captain, 
Anna  Maria  and  the  Governor  went  to  "Windermere — The  Road 
that  was  Long  and  the  Sun  that  didn't  Set — A  Spell  at  Spelling — 
"Windermere  at  Night  and  the  Lake  Country  by  Day — Langdale 
and  HelveUyn — Grasmere,   Grasmere  Church,  and    the   Grave  of 

"Wordsworth — Rydal  Mount  and  Ambleside 250 

1* 


X  .  CONTENTS. 

XXIL 

"Sent  to  Cotkntrt,"  with  Peeps  at  KE^^x■woRT^  and  "Wartticic. 
— How  I  was  "  Sent  to  Coventry  " — "Wolverhampton  and  Birming- 
ham— Tennyson  and  the  "Three  Tall  Spires"  of  Coventry — St. 
Michael's,  St.  Mary's  Hall,  and  Old  Houses — Peeping  Tom  and  the 
Godiva  Stories  and  Processions — Kenilworth  Castle,  its  Ruins  and 
Eoses— Guy's  Cliff  and  "Warwick  Castle Page  264 

XXTTT. 

Two  Days  at  Stratford  and  Charlecote. — How  we  came  to  Strat- 
ford-on-Avon — "Warwickshire  Markets — The  Red  Horse,  and 
another  demanded — Shakspeare's  Birthplace  and  Anne  Hathaway's 
Cottage— The  Tomb,  and  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity— Charle 
cote  Park  and  Charlecote  Hall,  with  an  ending  at  Leamington.   278 

XXIY. 

Htde  Park  and  PARLiAirENT. — The  London  Houses  of  Parliament,  to 
Americans — Accommodations  in  the  Lords  and  Commons — Per- 
sonnel of  the  Two  Houses — Behavior  and  Oratory — "Waiting  for  the 
M.  P.'s — Hyde  Park  at  the  "  Evening  Hour,"  with  its  Carriage- 
Riders,  its  Equestrians,  and  the  Reflections  Incident  to  Both. .   294 

XXV. 

Between  France  and  England. — Another  Crossing  from  Newhaven 
to  Dieppe — Making  the  Acquaintance  of  Young  Hawesby — Sea- 
Sickness  and  Anna  Maria,  with  some  Peeps  at  the  Secrets  of  that 
Lady's  Career — The  Battle-field  of  the  Slain  Amazons — Brute  Nar- 
rowood  and  poor  little  Lizzie ;  Avith  a  Sermon  following — Over  from 
Calais  to  Dover,  with  the  pleasant  Episode  of  Joe  and  his  Um- 
brella  , .  304 


CONTENTS.  xi 

XXVI. 

Bikd-Flight  ts  Switzerland — Paris  to  Geneva  and  Chillon. — 
About  Lady  Eleanor  and  the  Gipsy  Queen — Down  the  Seine,  the 
Tvonne  and  the  Saone,  to  Macon — Up  the  Valley  of  the  Rhone — 
First  Glimpse  of  Mont  Blanc — Geneva  and  the  Hotel  de  la  Cou- 
ronne — The  Old  Town  and  the  Cathedral — Up  the  Lake  to  Chillon 
and  the  Castle  thereof. Page  316 

XX  vn. 

Bied-Flight  in  Switzerland — (II.) — Through  the  Oberland. — 
Genev^a  to  Berne,  by  Fribourg — Berne  and  the  Bears — By  Thun 
from  Berne  to  Interlaken — Interlaken  and  the  Jungfrau — The 
Glacier  of  Grindelwald  and  the  Falls  of  Giessbach — Giessbach  on 
Brienz — Over  the  Brunig  Pass  to  Lucerne — The  Rigs  of  the  Rhigi — 
A  Painful  Doubt  about  the  Bridge  of  Bale ' 333 

xxvm. 

Strasbourg  Pates  and  Baden-Baden  Pin-Holes. — Bale  to  Stras- 
bourg— A  Truant  Steeple  which  turned  out  to  be  Strasbourg  Cathe- 
dral— The  City  and  the  Clock — The  Cathedral,  a  Wonder  in  Archi- 
tecture— Old  Houses,  and  the  Church  of  St.  Thomas — Badeu- 
Baden  and  its  Situation — The  Conversation-House,  the  Drink-Hall, 
and  the  Promenade-Grounds — The  Briefest  of  Peeps  at  Baden- 
Baden  Gamblmg,  with  a  Cool-Oflf  in  the  Black  Forest 349 

XXIX. 

The  Sun-Burst  Over  Ireland. — How  I  first  Saw  the  Sun-Burst — 
Liverpool  to  DubUn — Irish  Cabins  and  Character — About  Dublin, 
Glasnevin  Cemetery,  and  O'Connell's  Tomb — To  Killarney  by  Kil- 
dare,  the  Bog  of  Allen,  and  Mallow — The  Lakes  of  Killarney,  by 
Boat  and  Jaunting-Car,  with  the  Story  of  the  "One  Fenian  in 
Kerry  " — KUlamey  to  Cork  and  Queenstown 366 


xii  CONTENTS. 

XXX. 

Shivekings  Oil  Shipboard. — Once  More  on  the  Inman  Steamships — A 
Glance  at  the  National  Line — Commodore  Kennedy,  and  what  ho 
wanted  of  the  Governor — Company  on  Board — A  Bit  of  Iceland — 
The  Commodore's  Smoked  Herring — The  Return-Run,  Captain 
Brooks,  and  Rough  Weather — How  they  used  the  Governor — 
Death  and  Burial  at  Sea — Conclusion. Pagk  385 


PREFACE. 


There  is  a  certain  often-quoted  work,  of  which  "  Chap- 
ter XI.,  on  the  Snakes  of  Ireland,"  contains  only  a  single 
sentence :  "  There  are  no  snakes  in  Ireland ;"  and  the  prin- 
cipal employment  of  this  preface  is  to  say  that:  1st.  No 
preface  is  necessary ;  2d.  The  writer  is  not  going  to  supply 
any;  3d.  He  has  put  it  in  the  body  of  the  work;  4th. 
What  follows  here  is  not  a  preface,  but  an  appendix ; 
5th.  The  reader,  after  perusal,  is  at  liberty  to  doubt 
whether  this  is  here  at  all,  as  it  is  written  under  serious 
intention  of  omitting  it  altogether.  But  if  it  should  not 
chance  to  be  omitted  (and  that  may  be  considered  pos- 
sible, in  the  event  of  perusal),  only  tbis  is  to  be  said: 
That  the  writer  has  considered  certain  books  on  the  French 
Exposition,  by  American  writers,  inevitable.  That  most 
of  them  will  be  very  bad,  and  even  an  atrociously  bad  one 
Tuaj  pass  in  the  doubtful  muster ;  while  he  will  have  the 
advantage  as  to  originahty,  and  the  disadvantage  as  to 
opportunity  of  "  appropriation,"  of  being  among  the  first 
in  the  field.  That  he  may  also  hope  to  escape  condem- 
nation, under  the  smoke  of  people  being  less  tired  of  the 


xiv  PBEFA  CE. 

subject  when  they  read  his  work  than  when  they  peruse 
some  of  the  later  and  better.  That  he  has  found  the  task 
a  difficult  onCy  but  pursued  it  faithfully,  even  if  oddly  and 
fragmentarily  and  by  no  means  so  thoroughly  as  the  grav- 
ity of  the  subject  may  have  demanded.  That  he  has  not 
stolen  the  title,  "  Paris  in  '67,"  from  any  of  the  English 
books  using  it  during  the  summer  as  a  catch-word ;  as  the 
records  in  the  District  Court  of  Southern  New  York  will 
show  that  he  announced  the  work  and  copyrighted  the 
title  something  more  than  seven  months  ago.  That,  a  part 
of  the  work  having  been  written  at  midsummer,  and  the 
balance  in  autumn,  a  slight  incongruity  in  tenses  may  be 
discovered,  for  which  an  apology  might  be  necessary  from 
one  of  apologetic  habit.  That  the  opinions  expressed  are 
individual,  and  generally  as  honest  as  the  present  vitiated 
state  of  society  will  permit.  And  that,  after  being  de- 
layed much  beyond  original  intention,  the  work  is  at  last 
issued  somewhat  hurriedly,  with  the  praiseworthy  inten- 
tion of  getting  it  out  of  the  way  (as  the  trundler  of  a 
wheelbarrow  might  choose  to  be  with  a  railroad  train  ap- 
proaching) of  that  necessarily-valuable  official  report  on 
the  Exposition,  which  it  is  understood  that  Mr.  Commis- 
sioner Charles  B.  Seymour  will  submit  to  the  American 
public  at  an  early  period. 

New  York  City,  Oct.,  1867. 


PARIS  IN  '67. 


I 

ABOUT  THINGS    IN  GENERAL,   AND    THINGS    INTRO- 
DUCTORY  IN   PARTICULAR. 

At  Interlaken,  heart  of  the  Bernese  Oberland,  the  first 
words  of  this  book. 

At  Interlaken,  where  the  magnificent  snowy  brow  of 
the  Jungfrau  is  flung  skyward,  as  if  to  type  human  energy 
and  audacity,  and  where  the  clouds  that  ever  and  anon 
vail  her  presence  serve  to  type  correspondingly  human 
error,  ignorance,  and  vacillation, — at  Interlaken,  most 
glorious  goal  of  a  pilgrimage  gemmed  with  notable 
sights  and  pleasant  recollections, — the  commencement  at 
once  of  work  and  apology. 

I  have  promised — I,  the  Governor — to  write  of  the  great 
French  Exposition  of  1867,  of  its  surroundings,  and  of 
some  of  the  many  excursions  induced  and  made  possible  by 
it.  The  most  natural  of  promises,  in  the  light  of  kindness 
so  lately  bestowed  upon  a  kindred  work  ("  Over  Sea ;  or, 
England,  France,  and  Scotland,  as  seen  by  a  Live 
American  ")  ;  and  yet  the  rashest,  when  the  scope  of  the 
undertaking  is  considered.  Never  has  a  year  dawned 
upon  the  world,  more  fertile  of  temptations  to  the  venture- 
some pen ;  never  has  one  induced  more  bad  writing,  or 
1* 


16  PA  HIS   jy  'C7. 

offered  better  excuse  for  failure  to  rise  to  tlie  level  of 
a  given  subject. 

Those  dangerous  advisers,  Partial  Friends,  kind  enough 
to  express  satisfaction  "with  the  previous  venture,  and 
especially  gratified  with  the  freedom  of  remark  therein 
indulged,  hazarded  this  incitement :  "  Of  course  you  will 
see  the  great  French  Exposition,  and  give  us  the  results 
of  your  obseiwation,  "with  the  same  freedom."  So  sug- 
gested, rather  than  inquired.  Partial  Friends,  by  no  means 
the  easiest  of  tempters  to  be  resisted. 

"Paris  in  '67"  is  destined  to  be  the  result — a  bit  of 
patchwork,  in  the  gathering  of  materials  for  which,  and 
commencing  to  place  them  in  more  or  less  evident  relation 
to  each  other,  there  have  been  trouble,  toil,  weariness, 
anxiety,  discouragement,  and  yet  interest  and  amusement 
sufficient  to  compensate  ten  times  the  outlay  in  either 
direction. 

I  have  committed  one  serious  error,  and  am  well  aware 
of  the  fact.  I  should  have  heeded  Brinsley  Sheridan  and 
Sydney  Smith,  the  former  of  whom  suggested  to  his  son 
Tom,  that  "he  could  have  told  about  going  do"wn  into  a 
coal-pit,  quite  as  well  without  doing  any  thing  of  the  kind," 
while  the  latter  reasonably  proclaimed  the  folly  of  reading 
a  book  before  reviewing  it,  because  such  a  proceeding  was 
sure  to  create  a  prejudice.  With  the  aid  of  Galignnni,  a 
map  of  Paris,  the  plentiful  pictures  of  the  Exposition,  the 
innumerable  catchpenny  guide-books  of  the  English  for 
the  present  season,  and  the  really  brilliant  descriptive 
epistles  from  the  pens  of  American  correspondents  resi- 
dent abroad  during  the  current  summer,  I  might  have 
emulated  the  able  French  author  who  wrote  the  best  of 
books  on  America  ("  Paris  en  Am^rique  ")  without  ever 
crossing  the  Atlantic,  and  produced  a  better  book  on  the 
contemplated  subject  than  is  possible  under  present  cir- 
cumstances.    But  I   am   unfortunately  a   sharer  in   that 


THIXOS   IN    GFyERAL.  lY 

antiquated  jircjudice,  leading  writers  uncultivated  beyond 
a  given  point  to  dare  the  perils  of  acquainting  themselves 
to  a  certain  degree  with  their  o^m  topics,  instead  of  trav- 
eling the  safe  and  easy  path  of  "  adapting  from  the 
French." 

To  a  certain  degree  only,  with  most  writers,  especially 
with  reference  to  the  Exposition.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  no 
man,  commissioner  or  non-official,  resident  in  the  gay 
capital,  and  frequenting  the  Champ  de  Mars  from  the 
opening  in  April  till  the  close  in  October  or  November, 
has  made  himself,  or  will  make  himself,  acquainted  with 
all  the  details  of  the  wonderful  gatheiing  in  and  around 
the  "  great  gasometer "  (as  the  master-spirit  has  face- 
tiously designated  it) ;  and  it  is  equally  certain  that  nine- 
tenths  of  the  body  of  visitors,  among  whom  most  of  the 
writers  may  be  reckoned,  have  caught  no  more  compre- 
hensive view  of  it  than  could  be  obtained  of  any  given 
town  by  sailing  slowly  over  it  in  a  balloon.  To  master 
the  great  event  has  been  well-nigh  impossible,  even  to  the 
most  diligent :  most  of  us  are  not  diligent,  especially  in 
Paris,  and  malgre  the  example  of  the  *'  Industrious 
Fleas." 

But  here  comes  my  advantage.  If  I  have  erred  in  going 
to  Paris  at  all,  I  have  stumbled  upon  wisdom  in  finding 
the  right  time  and  the  correct  quantity  of  it. 

I  have  not  taken  Paris  alone,  or  too  much  of  it.  I  am 
not  among  the  bored — as  bored  people  there  are,  in  con- 
nection with  the  Exposition  :  quite  as  thoroughly  ennuied 
as  ever  men  have  been  with  harmless  inanity,  overgushing 
^  tenderness,  or  tot/jours  perdrix.  To  more  than  a  few  (the 
'  observant  visitor  to  Paris,  of  June  or  July,  could  read  it 
in  their  faces),  the  passage  over  the  Pont  de  Jena  has 
become  a  terror,  the  Grande  Porte  a  horror,  and  the  great 
building  itself  a  fiendish  fascination  that  could  no  more  be 
endured  than  escaped.     The  labyrinths  of  products  and 


18  PARIS   ly  '67 

ameliorations  of  Tmman  labor,  instead  of  becoming  clearer 
to  the  eye  by  habit,  have  simply  grown  more  tangled  and 
confused  as  the  eye  grew  wearier,  just  as 

Last  night  the  full  moon  of  midsummer  was  hanging 
over  the  Bernese  Oberland — a  cloudless  full  moon,  such  as 
the  dwellers  up  Lauterbrunnen  and  the  Grindelwald  say 
comes  but  seldom  even  to  the  luckiest.  The  silver  light 
fell  full  on  the  white  brow  of  the  Jungfrau,  making  its 
piled  snow  a  glory,  and  even  bringing  out  the  dark  ravines 
below  and  eastward.  But  the  eye  was  not  content ;  it 
must  gaze  longer  and  glass-assisted,  to  try  if  the  fine  out- 
lines of  the  day  could  not  be  duplicated.  It  did  so,  too 
eagerly  and  too  long  ;  and  directly  that  point  was  reached 
at  which  the  visual  organ  gave  way,  and  the  imprudent 
gazer,  stricken  with  sudden  blindness,  saw  nothing  what- 
ever. There  are  moonlight  and  snoAV-blinded  Expositionists, 
I  fancy,  as  I  know  that  there  are  and  have  long  been 
thoroughly  tired  ones,  especially  Americans,  listening 
enviously  to  the  j^lans  of  those  who  were  "  going  home," 
and  wishing  that  they  too  were  under  "  sailing  orders." 

The  lucky  are  those  who  have  swooped  down  upon  the 
scene  of  France's  gathering-in  the  products  of  a  world, 
late  enough  to  find  the  unsightly  beams  and  packing-boxes 
of  opening  cleared  away,  and  yet  early  enough  to  escape 
the  yawns,  weariness,  and  indescribably  fade  aspect  of 
impending  close.  Happy  the  gatherers  to  a  ball,  always, 
who  come  after  the  music  has  assumed  its  place,  and  go 
away  again  before  the  lights  have  begun  to  burn  low  and 
the  pallor  of  fatigue  to  assert  itself  on  lovely  faces ;  and 
something  like  this,  of  the  midsummer  visitor  to  the  Great 
Exposition. 

For  during  the  June  and  July  of  ISC'/,  England,  Franco, 
and  half  Europe  have  been  all  a-bloom  with  roses;  the 
golden  grain  has  been  just  temptingly  ripe  on  the  harvest- 
fields  of  English  Warwickshire  and  French  Normandy ; 


TEiyGS   IN    GENERAL.  19 

not  a  leaf  has  hung  withered  on  the  clustering  shrubbery 
of  either  land ;  Hyde  Park  and  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  have 
both  answered  back  hiiman  beauty  and  elegance  to  the  yet 
matchless  luxuriance  of  nature,  in  what  the  fashionable 
world  designates  as  the  "height  of  the  season;"  kings 
and  emperors  and  corresponding  Oriental  potentates,  their 
glory  only  for  a  moment  shadowed  by  the  cruel  death  of  one 
of  their  number  in  a  far-away  Western  land,  have  dazzled 
the  public  eye  with  their  magnificence,  ridden  amid  plumed 
squadrons,  given  receptions  from  velvet-carpeted  daises, 
and  distributed  rewards  yet  richer  than  the  smiles  of 
jeweled  beauty  that  accompanied  them.  Nature  and 
humanity  have  been  matching  if  not  rivaling  splendors ; 
the  center  of  all  this,  for  the  time,  as  never  before  or 
elsewhere  since  the  first  gathering  of  men,  has  been  Paris; 
and  thus,  and  only  thus,  ha^■e  the  great  event  and  its  sur- 
roundings flitted  before  the  eye  of  the  Governor,  commis- 
sioner self-appointed  and  very  much  unpaid — thus,  with 
no  tint  lost  of  its  color,  no  leaf  faded  from  its  chaplet.  I 
should  have  seen  it  as  women  (they  say)  love  to  be  seen — 
at.  the  best:  it  remains  to  be  found  whether  I  have  the  fatal 
faculty  of  distilling  poisoil  from  delicacies  and  showing  it 
at  the  icorst. 

Meanwhile  comes  this  apparently-awkward  question  from 
one  of  those  methodical  souls  : — 

" The  wonderful  man  with  mechanical  eyes, 

Who  counts  you  the  plumes  on  the  wing  of  a  midge, 

And  who,  passing  over  the  Bridge  of  Sighs, 
Only  thinks  of  the  sUe  of  the  bridge  .•" 

"  Governor,  if  you  were  only  in  Pai'is  during  so  brief  a 
period,  how  is  it  possible  that  you  can  have  caught  any 
glimpse  of  each  of  several  difierent  events  of  peculiar 
interest  which  occurred  with  so  much  lapse  of  time  be- 
tween ?     How  shall  you  tell  us  of  these  ?" 


20  PARIS   /iY  '6  7. 

To  which  I  reply  that,^r5?,  potentates  are  fai*  less  in- 
teresting objects  than  the  scenes  amid  which  they  move, 
and  that  I  am  the  slowest  of  tuft  and  lion  hunters ;  that, 
second,  some  of  my  dear  little  familiars,  handsomer  and 
with  better  opportunities  for  entree  than  myself,  may  have 
been  present  at  the  most  notable  of  all  the  royal  pageants, 
and  able  to  whisper  into  my  ears  the  most  interesting  of 
accounts  thereof,  all  the  more  satisfactory  because  not 
too  often  repeated  ;  and  that,  third,  I  have  the  liberty  of 
extract  (and  shall  use  it)  from  some  of  those  "  best  things  " 
that  have  fallen  at  intervals  from  the  pens  of  newspaper 
correspondents.     Shall  not  all  these  suffice  ? 


n. 

WHAT   "PARIS  m  '67"  IS  DESTINED  TO  BE. 

The  great  charm  of  book-writing,  at  the  present  day, 
consists  in  the  blessed  privilege  of  not  knowing  at  the 
commencement  what  is  to  be  the  end  of  the  literary  journey. 
Burns  struck  the  key-note  of  this  privilege,  long  ago  and 
inimitably,  in  his  notification  with  reference  to  a  certain 
poem  then  only  half  elaborated — that 

"  Perhaps  it  might  turn  out  a  sang, 
Perhaps  turn  out  a  sermon  •" 

and  there  are  those  living  who  well  remember  the  recipe 
of  a  certain  popular  female  novelist  for  arranging  the  plot 
of  a  romance:  "Take  a  couple  of  lovers,  a  suffering  saint, 
and  a  villain  or  two ;  start  them  out,  and  allow  them  to 
go  their  own  way.  Depend  upon  it  that  they  will  get 
into  worse  scrapes  than  you  could  devise  for  them,  and 
awaken  interest  enough  before  they  are  through  !"  The 
good  lady  has  more  followers  than  would  like  to  acknowl- 
edge the  obligation  ;  and  the  Governor  is  one  of  them — 
one  of  the  "  unattached  cadets,"  a  species  of  eclectic  camp- 
follower.  Any  attempted  abridgment  of  this  liberty  of 
literary  laziness  would  create  a  rebellion  more  threatening 
in  its  consequences  than  any  past  eraeute  of  the  century. 
Let  us  have  our  little  privilege  of  trifling  along  the  road 
to  Nowhere  or  Anywhere,  and  we  may  be  content  with 
slender  fare  and  even  endure  the  toi'ture  of  worn  feet: 
narrow  us  to  a  certain  line,  and  we  shall  be  discontented 


22  PARIS   I2T  '67. 

with  the  most  velvety  of  paths  and  sicken  with  the  most 
savory  of  wayside  lunches. 

Perhaps  the  nearest  guess  of  what  "Paris  in '67"  is 
intended  to  be,  may  be  caught  by  noting  what  it  must 
not  be. 

Who  wants  a  dry  book  of  travel,  principally  made  up  of 
bald  description,  catalogues  of  inanimate  objects,  and  com- 
ments upon  things  familiar  to  the  eye  of  the  veriest  tyro 
among  tourists  ?  And  who  is  anxious  for  extended  relations 
of  personal  adventure,  when  the  adventure  is  likely  to  be 
either  a  pure  invention  or  even  more  insignificant  than  the 
writer,  about  whom  nobody  cares  the  value  of  a  brass  fai'- 
thing?  Can  any  thing  be  less  ajipetizing  than  the  lugubrious 
and  the  sentimental,  as  applied  to  the  works  of  nature  and 
their  feebler  rival,  the  works  of  art  ?  And  yet  is  not  the 
sublime  of  impropriety  more  effectually  reached  in  over- 
strained wit  and  far-drawn  humor,  striving  to  impart  vitality 
to  that  which  has  no  spark  of  its  own  ?  Decidedly  the  field 
is  narrowed  from  those  days  when  the  few  traveled  and 
the  still  fewer  wrote ;  and  in  the  latter  half  of  the  nine- 
teenth century,  however  patient  the  cycles  preceding — the 
dry  matter-of-fact  traveler,  who  counts  and  measures 
every  thing ;  the  egotistical  traveler,  who  meets  with  an 
astounding  mole-hill  adventure  every  day;  the  traveler 
with  a  high  moral  purpose,  who  preaches  volumes  of 
sermons  from  a  falling  leaf  or  the  chipped  nose  of  a 
statue  ;  the  practical  traveler,  who  calculates  the  water- 
power  of  every  cataract,  and  measures  the  area  of  wheat 
that  might  have  been  grown  on  the  site  of  an  unnecessary 
church  ;  and  the  smart  traveler,  who  goes  abroad  to  dis- 
cover new  fields  for  a  wit  exhausted  at  home,  and  extracts 
guffaws  from  gravestones  and  bad  puns  from  belfries — all 
these  are  voted  nuisances,  with  better  reason  than  usually 
attaches  to  such  wholesale  condemnation. 

What   then?     Shall  the  scribbler  be    debarred  from 


WffAT  IT  IS    TO    BE.  23 

rambling  ? — or  shall  he  only  be  allowed  to  ramble,  under 
bonds  to  keep  the  peace  toward  society  by  preserving 
silence  as  to  his  observations  or  adventures  ?  No ;  the 
favorite  resource  of  the  century,  brought  into  use  when 
Sara  Slick  presented  his  twelve  jurymen  with  twelve  pieces 
of  chalk,  that  they  might  add  up  their  verdicts  and  divide 
by  twelve  for  the  result — this  comes  into  use  at  such  a 
juncture.  Let  us  compromise.  What  if  a  little  of  each 
of  the  blemishes  before  indicated  should  be  involved,  so 
that  in  each  instance  another  hides  it  from  view  or  tones 
down  the  general  effect  ?  So  let  us  be  dryly  descriptive, 
here;  didactic  and  ponderous,  there;  anon  as  egotistical 
as  if  the  world  cared  for  our  welfare  or  whereabouts; 
again  lugubrious  enough  to  disgust  the  most  sublimated, 
descendant  of  defunct  Laura  Matilda ;  and  yet  again  so 
atrocious  in  perversions  of  wit  and  humor,  that  the  ghosts 
of  poor  Tom  Hood  and  our  own  lately-lost  Artemus  will 
shudder  together  from  their  opposite  sides  of  the  world. 
The  one  may  palliate  the  other,  if  not  excuse  it :  the  dish 
may  be  made  appetizing  (who  knows  ?)  through  the  very 
incongruousness  of  its  ingredients. 

The  rambles  of  1867,  involving  the  Paris  Exposition  and 
the  excursions  incited  and  made  possible  by  it,  have  been 
by  no  means  impersonal,  as  aching  head,  wearied  limbs, 
and  depleted  purse,  have  all  first  or  last  borne  witness :  at 
times  the  personalities  must  protrude  themselves,  especially 
when  other  interest  fails;  again,  they  wiU  sink  away  and 
be  forgotten,  when  the  historical,  the  grandly-natural,  or 
the  beautifully-artistic  arises  to  dwarf  all  single  identities. 
A  trifle  of  information ;  something  of  amusement ;  a  little 
relation  of  personal  adventure ;  a  modicum  of  reflection 
and  comment ; — all  this  is  intended  to  be  briefly  conveyed, 
as  indefinite  in  compounding  and  as  irresponsible  in  final 
direction,  as  are  the  floating  clouds  at  this  moment  vaUing 
and  unvailing  that  queenly  brow  of  the  Virgin  Mountain. 


24  PARTS   IK   'or. 

As  for  tliat  portion  of  the  work  dealing  exclusively  with 
the  exhibition  which  gives  it  name : 

The  official  catalogue  of  the  Exposition  makes  a  thou- 
sand octavo  pages,  with  only  a  line  or  two  devoted  to  the 
contributions  of  each  exhibitor ;  the  Exposition  itself 
gathers  something  from  each  of  nearly  all  the  countries  of 
the  globe,  and  stretches  over  a  farm-space  of  more  than  an 
hundred  acres;  half  a  world  has  "assisted"  at  it,  first  or 
last,  in  one  way  or  another ;  the  very  list  of  awards  sup- 
plies a  volume  of  formidable  dimensions ;  the  descriptions 
and  comments  rendered  necessary  by  it  have  half-monopo- 
lized the  press  of  civilized  nations  for  the  better  jDortion  of 
a  year.  What,  then,  shall  be  done  with  such  a  subject,  in 
the  thin  compass  of  such  a  volume  ?  What  the  practical 
housewife  does  with  the  lacteal  product  of  her  dairy-pans 
— skim  it ;  with  the  comforting  reflection  that  when  the 
process  is  accomplished,  the  more  precious  portion  of  the 
whole  will  have  been  secured. 

Even  the  problem  of  ho^o  to  sJcim  might  have  seemed  a 
more  formidable  one,  but  for  the  publication  of  a  certain 
"Practical  Guide,"  during  the  current  season  convulsing 
European  travelers,  and  in  which  explicit  directions  are 
given  for  seeing  Paris  thoroughly  in  one  day,  on  the  j^rin- 
ciple  of  devoting  five  minutes  to  the  Louvre,  two  to  the 
Madeleine,  half  an  hour  of  fist  trotting  to  the  Champs 
Elypees  and  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  and  "  driving  by  "  most 
of  the  notable  buildings,  so  as  to  be  able  to  record  having 
"  seen  "  them !  After  that,  what  cannot  be  done  in  a  mo- 
ment of  time  and  an  atom  of  space  ?  And  after  that,  what 
cramped  traveler  shnll  despair  of  leisure  or  what  ham- 
pered scribbler  fear  the  printer  ? 

A  portion  of  this  volume,  limited  in  space  but  notable  in 
interest,  will  be  found  specially  devoted  to  certain  Ameri- 
can contributions  to  the  Great  Exposition,  which  have 
struck  the  e^e  of  careful  research  as  most  fitly  typifying 


WEAT  IT   IS    TO    BE.  25 

our  great  material  progress,  and  best  showing  how  and  why 
we,  as  a  nation,  have  commanded  the  very  highest  respect 
of  the  world,  and  borne  away  a  marked  proportion  of  the 
official  awards,  with  one  of  the  very  smallest  contributions, 
in  point  of  scope  and  variety,  supplied  by  any  great  people 
of  the  civilized  globe/  Of  this,  at  length,  in  its  proper 
place :  attention  is  called  to  it,  here,  more  by  way  of  direct- 
ing that  attention  than  as  any  apology  for  what  is  so 
obviously  proper,  even  if  out  of  the  line  of  ordinary  remark. 
But  that  melancholy  comment  over  the  grave  of  a  cer- 
tain deceased  savan  whose  foiling  body  still  out-lasted  the 
over-wrought  brain,  is  to  be  avoided  :  "  Died  of  pursuing 
one  idea."  Too  much  of  Paris  and  the  Exposition  might 
be  as  fatal  to  peace  of  mind,  as  the  single  study  proved  to 
the  savan.  Ninety-nine  hundredths  of  visitors  to  the  Ex- 
position, especially  Americans,  did  not  make  it  a  single 
pilgrimage.  Some  loitered  on  the  way  over ;  others  have 
dallied,  or  are  preparing  to  dally,  on  their  return  ;  and  it 
is  worthy  of  note  that  even  grave  and  responsible  com- 
missioners, and  gentlemen  especially  intrusted  with  some 
of  the  most  important  interests  involved,  suddenly  de- 
camped Switzerland-and-Germany-ward  within  a  few  hours 
after  the  declaration  of  awards,  leaving  the  delicately- 
varied  music  of  the  Tunisian  cafe  to  delight  other  ears. 
That  self-appointed  commissioner,  the  Governor,  has  like- 
wise had  his  "  little  runaways  "  from  the  great  event ;  and 
no  inconsiderable  portion  of  this  volume  has  the  duty  of 
recording  what  he  saw  and  felt,  suffered  and  enjoyed, 
through  the  Lake  Country  of  Western  England,  Coventry 
and  the  Shakespeare  neighborhoods  of  Warwickshire, 
Switzerland  and  the  Black  Forest  of  Germany,  London 
in  the  full  "  season,"  Killarney  and  the  South  of  Ireland, 
in  company  and  out  of  company  with  the  Captain,  Anna 
Maria,  Young  Ilawesby,  Lady  Eleanor,  and  the  Gipsy 
Queen. 


III. 


ABOUT    THE    EMPEROR    OF   THE    FRENCH,   AND    HIS 
WORK   OF   1867. 

His  Majesty  the  Emperor  of  the  French  has  not  given 
me  the  Grand  Cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor,  albeit  I  was 
in  Paris  at  the  time  when  such  decorations  were  flying 
about  at  an  alarming  rate  ;  nor  do  I  know  that  if  he  had. 
done  so,  covered  as  I  am  with  other  orders  (from  em- 
ployers), I  should  have  found  room  to  wear  the  desirable 
bauble  once  enjoyed  by  Lopez.  But  that  strange  neglect 
shall  not  prevent  my  prefacing  the  account  of  the  creation 
of  the  world  with  some  mention  of  its  creator. 

It  is  a  favorite  theory,  at  the  present  day,  that  the  tri- 
umphs of  peace  are  more  enduring  than  those  of  war,  and 
that  he  builds  best  who  builds  with  the  hammers  and 
spades  of  his  people,  rather  than  with  their  bayonets.  A 
favorite  theory,  but  only  those  seem  to  practice  upon  it 
who  possess  the  best  of  excuses  for  holding  the  opposite 
faith.  England  has  been  the  bull-dog  of  nations,  always  in 
arms,  and  winning  and  retaining  more  through  the  use  of 
arms  than  all  other  nations  combined ;  yet  England,  ope- 
rated upon  by  the  splendidly-practical  and  humanitarian 
mind  of  the  late  Prince  Consort,  opened  to  the  nations,  in 
1851,  the  world- wedding  and  humanizing  system  of  inter- 
national industrial  exhibitions,  followed  with  a  second,  and 
supplemented  with  that  magnificent  private  pendant,  the 
Sydenham  Crystal  Palace.  No  ruler  of  the  century  has 
been  held  to  need  Mars  as  his  right  hand,  to  such  an  extent 


THE   EMPEROR    AND    HIS    WORK.       27 

as  the  present  Emperor  of  the  French  ;  none  has  been  so 
long  and  constantly  suspected  of  hostile  designs  in  every 
direction  ;  none  has  been  so  watched  and  reprobated  on 
that  single  score ;  yet  he  it  is  who  has  taken  the  second 
great  step  in  this  international  industrial  progress,  by 
originating  and  carrying  out  an  exhibition  to  which  the 
English  was  but  a  shadow.  An  anomaly,  certainly;  but 
what  great  event  of  this  transition  period  is  not  an  ano- 
maly ? 

Here  follows  a  brief  but  decided  expression  of  a  delibe- 
rate opinion  : 

Tlie  Emperor  of  the  French.,  in  the  Exposition  o/*1867, 
has  done  a  great  work  for  his  people.,  for  the  world.,  and 
for  his  oxen  enduring  repntation. 

This  position  is  either  denied,  or  so  modified  that  no 
personal  credit  remains,  on  many  hands:  is  either  the 
denial  or  the  modification  warranted  ?  Let  the  under- 
valuations be  briefly  taken  up  in  succession. 

What  if,  as  alleged,  the  design  of  the  Exposition,  on 
the  part  of  the  Emperor,  may  have  been  the  wish  to  pre- 
serve, for  the  time  being,  the  threatened  peace  of  Europe? 
Shall  not  that  motive  be  held  most  creditable,  the  supposed 
opposite  of  which,  on  his  part,  has  been  continually  repro- 
bated and  feared  as  the  most  fxtal  of  personal  foibles  ? 
What  if,  even,  that  anxiety  was  only  a  thing  of  the  pre- 
sent, because  France  lacked  readiness  for  the  impending 
conflict  ?  Has  a  ruler  a  more  sacred  duty  than  to  look  to 
it  that  his  nation  fights  only  when  prepared,  if  it  fights  at 
all  ?  What  if,  again,  absolute  apjirehension  of  a  rebellion 
against  his  personal  rule,  may  have  induced  his  presenta- 
tion of  this  temporary  employment  to  the  French  mind  and 
hand  ?  Granted  the  fact  of  the  present  possession  of 
power,  and  the  supposed  fear  of  its  loss,  what  more  laudable 
characteristic  could  be  shown  by  a  ruler,  than  the  wish  to 
still  sedition  with  industrial  employment  and  profit,  rather 

2* 


28  PARIS  IN  'cr. 

than  to  repress  it  with  the  sword  and  the  prison-holt? 
What  if,  again,  his  predominant  motive  may  have  been  the 
enriching  of  the  p'lirses  of  Parisian  dealers,  and  the  amelio- 
ration of  the  momentary  financial  condition  of  all  France, 
through  the  atti'actiiig  thither  of  the  purses  of  all  the 
world  ?  Since  when  has  monetary  providence  for  his 
people  been  held  a  weakness  or  a  vice  on  the  part  of  a 
governing  mind  ?  What  if,  yet  again,  the  desire  to  make 
other  monarehs  visit  his  capital  and  revolve  like  satellites 
in  the  dazzling  sphere  of  his  hospitality,  may  have  largely 
influenced  the  enterprise  ?  "What  else  than  this  feeling,  in 
one  development  or  another,  induces  every  brilliant  re- 
union in  the  fashionable  world,  or  even  leads  to  the  hum- 
blest of  tea-drinkings — affairs  that  the  world  is  as  yet  by  no 
means  ready  to  decry  as  corrupt  or  vicious  ?  And  what, 
finally,  if  a  doubt  of  permanent  position  yet  achieved,  and 
a  lust  for  enduring  name  in  the  future  history  of  the  time, 
may  have  principally  moved  the  monarch  who  saw  a  late 
and  perhaps  a  last  opportunity  ?  Since  when  have  the 
great  names  of  history  been  specially  faulted,  or  even  under- 
valued, for  the  indulgence  of  that  noblest  of  all  the  weak- 
nesses of  human  nature,  when  no  reprobation,  but  rather 
applause,  was  due  to  the  means  which  they  employed  for 
indulging  that  lust  of  fame? 

Decidedly,  to  the  cosmopolitan  mind  of  any  nation,  the 
indictment  against  the  originator  and  promoter  of  the  great 
enterprise  falls  to  the  ground ;  while  the  magnificent  re- 
sult remains  to  take  its  trial  as  to  success  or  failure,  perfec- 
tion or  weakness  of  detail. 

"  The  Exposition  is  a  total  failure !"  was  the  cry  princi- 
pally conveyetl  to  the  public  ear  through  the  adcaptandum 
utterances  of  newspaper  correspondents,  when  the  hurried 
opening  of  the  First  of  April  was  just  taking  place,  and 
when  the  collection  and  visitors  (the  writers  included)  were 
alike  in  confusion.     No  nation — so  they  said — had  sent 


THE   EMPEROR    AFD    HIS    WORK.       20 

forward  any  representation  of  its  industry  or  art,  worthy 
of  the  name ;  no  such  body  of  people  as  had  been  expected 
•would  visit  Paris  during  the  season ;  every  thing  was  costly 
discomfort ;  the  building  was  a  disgrace  to  au  architectural 
age,  besides  being  certain  to  be  untenable  during  the  ap- 
proaching hot  weather;  the  wrong  men  had  hold  of  the 
affair  in  every  direction ;  the  Emperor  had  again  over- 
reached himself  and  made  another  immense  blunder,  and 
all  would  be  found  a  disgraceful  muddle, 

"  The  Exposition  is  a  perfect  and  magnificent  success !" 
has  been  the  current  cry,  from  corresponding  quarters,  at 
anytime  since  the  First  of  May,  when  order  began  to  emerge 
from  chaos ;  when  visitors  began  to  flock  from  all  quarters 
of  the  globe,  and  when  the  expected  titled  satellites  really 
commenced  to  revolve  around  the  imperial  orb.  And 
"  the  Exposition  is  a  perfect  and  magnificent  success  !"  has 
since  been  echoed  by  a  large  proportion  of  visitors,  espe- 
cially the  fortunate  winners  of  prizes,  golden,  silvern,  bra- 
zen, scriptive  and  decorative  ;  while  the  principal  counter- 
echo  has  come  from  non-visitors,  from  those  gentlemen 
who  "  didn't  care  about  the  Frenchman  who  was  exposing 
himself,  and  wouldn't  send  any  thing  !"  and  from  that  un- 
fortunate small  minority  overlooked  in  the  distribution. 

Both  cries,  meanwhile,  and  in  point  of  fact,  may  well 
have  been  taken  with  a  grain  of  allowance  :  the  Exposi- 
tion has  never  been  a  failure,  or  any  thing  approaching  that 
appellation,  from  the  opening  day ;  and  there  have  cer- 
tainly been  spots  enough  on  the  sun  of  even  its  noonday 
splendor,  to  make  that  word  "  perfect  "  scarcely  allowable. 

One  more  generalization,  and  only  one,  seems  to  be  in 
place  here,  and  at  this  moment. 

The  Exjyosition,  with  all  its  faults  and  short-coinings, 
is  incomparably  the  greatest  and  grandest  gathering  of 
the  works  of  human  hands,  that  the  world  has  so  far  ever 


30  PARIS  IN  '67. 

beheld ;  and  the  possibilities  which  it  opens  to  that  world, 
seem  almost  unlimited. 

The  added  position  it  gives  to  Napoleon  the  Third  can 
scarcely  be  set  down  in  words,  or  calculated  in  figures. 
As  a  sovereign,  it  has  shown  him  in  corresponding  glory 
as  magnificent  monarch  and  caterer  for  the  interests  of  his 
people  ;  as  an  executive  superintendent,  it  has  given  him 
proud  place,  even  in  this  day  when  executive  ability  is  the 
ambition  of  so  many  leading  minds  of  all  the  world  ;  even 
as  a  mere  skillful  advertiser  of  his  own  greatness,  the 
splendor  of  his  capital  and  the  variety  of  his  people's 
wares,  he  has  achieved  a  pre-eminence  quite  as  profitable,  if 
less  high-sounding.  What  he  has  himself  managed  in  the 
affair,  has  evidently  been  well  managed  ;  what  he  has  in- 
trusted to  others  has  shown  that  rarest  of  abilities  which 
lies  in  skillful  selection  of  agents. 

A  wonderful,  incongruous,  harmonious,  unsatisfactory, 
pleasing,  involved  and  yet  significant  whole,  the  Great 
Exposition  has  spread  over  the  Champ  de  Mars,  and  will 
spread  in  shadow  over  the  pages  of  history,  quite  as  im- 
perishable, in  fact  as  well  as  in  effect,  as  either  Austerlitz 
or  Waterloo,  and  capable  of  obscuriug  if  not  excusing  the 
tragic  criminal  mistake  of  Mexico. 

It  has  brouoht  the  nations  neai*er  totjether ;  it  has 
opened  wider  the  eyes  of  knowledge  as  well  as  those  of 
speculation ;  it  has  gone  at  least  one  step  towards  fusing 
languages,  the  dissimilarity  of  which  had  been  the  worst 
of  foes  to  human  intercourse  ;  it  has  narrowed  the  seas  by 
increasing  the  numbers  crossing,  and  the  facilities  for  over- 
leaping them ;  it  has  shown  all  nations  as  well  as  the  works 
of  all  nations,  and  the  very  habitations  of  all  nations,  to 
the  eyes  of  all  who  would  look  upon  the  gathered  wonder ; 
it  has  marked  another  era  in  human  progress,  and  carried 
us  all  nearer  to  that  goal  of  the  future  of  a  great  age, 
which  no  man  can  measure,  but  to  which  all  men  look  for- 


THE  EMPEROR    AFD    HIS    WORK.       31 

ward  confidently  as  blindly.  This  tlie  Great  Exposition 
has  done ;  and  this  (errors  excepted,  as  say  some  of  the 
mercantile  people  in  their  balance-sheets) — this  is  the 
round  result  of  the  Emperor's  work  of  1867. 

But  something  more  of  this  and  of  its  efiects  on  the  near 
future,  in  the  papers  following. 


ly. 


WHEREABOUTS    OF    THE    GREAT    EXPOSITION.— THE 
CHAMP  DE  MARS. 

None  of  the  innumerable  visitors  of  the  season  to  Paris, 
it  is  to  be  hoped,  need  to  be  informed  of  the  whereabouts 
of  the  great  gathering ;  though  it  is  not  quite  certain  that 
a  proportion  of  them,  geographically  inquired  of  by 
anxious  absentees,  would  be  too  capable  of  explaining  the 
location  of  its  site,  its  bearing  by  compass  from  what  might 
be  called  the  heart  of  the  city,  or  even  the  name  borne  by 
the  immense  quadrangle  thus  honored. 

I  think  that  he  was  not  a  dunce  beyond,  parallel,  whom  I 
heard  inquired  of  the  other  day  on  some  of  these  points, 
at  one  of  the  stations  down  the  Valley  of  the  Rhone,  after 
he  had  been  spending  a  month  in  Paris,  and  half  of  it 
within  the  Exposition  grounds,  and  who  replied  thus 
lucidly :  "  In  what  part  of  Paris  is  it  ?  Oh,  I  can  tell 
that  easy  enough,  you  know.  You  know  where  all  the 
stunning  big  hotels  are — no,  you  have  never  been  in  Paris, 
so  that  you  can't  know  that.  Well,  you  take  a  carriage  at 
any  of  the  big  hotels,  and  ride  about  twenty  minutes  or 
half  an  hour — maybe  not  quite  so  much  ;  sometimes  you 
cross  the  what's-its-name  river — the  Seine,  you  see  a 
thundering  big  building,  with  lots  of  flags  and  fountains, 
and  a  beastly  crowd  of  people  around  it,  and  there  you 
are." 

At    all  events,   stay-at-home  travelers,  even  those  who 


THE    CHAMP   DE    MARS.  83 

have  visited  Paris  in  former  years,  may  need  to  be  re- 
minded if  not  informed  on  some  of  these  points. 

The  Champ  de  Mars,  site  of  the  Great  Exposition,  lies  on 
the  southern  or  less  populous  side  of  the  Seine,  and  at  the 
western  or  down-stream  end  of  its  course  through  Paris, 
directly  opposite  the  suburb  of  Passy  (embracing  the  great 
entrance  to  the  Bois  de  Boulogne),  on  the  northwest,  and 
diagonally  opposite  the  Champs  Elysees,  the  Place  de  la 
Concorde,  the  Tuileries,  &c,,  on  the  northeast.  On  the 
point  of  being  out  of  town,  it  bears  about  the  same  relation 
to  the  city  that  would  be  held  by  a  New  York  pleasure- 
ground  laid  out  on  the  upper  edge  of  Murray  Hill — say 
about  the  site  of  the  Reservoir  and  the  old  Crystal  Palace  ; 
and  the  gentleman  just  quoted  was  right  in  giving  the 
time  by  carriage,  from  the  great  hotel  center  around  the 
Madeleine  and  the  Palais  Royal,  as  from  fifteen  to  thirty 
minutes. 

On  the  northwest  the  Champ  is  bounded  by  the  Seine, 
with  the  Pont  or  Bridge  of  Jena  crossing  at  its  exact  center ; 
on  the  northeast  its  length  stretches  down  the  Avenue  de 
la  Bourdonnaye ;  on  the  southeast  the  other  end  is  covered 
by  the  Avenue  de  la  Mothe  Piquet  and  the  immense  build- 
ings (its  whole  width)  of  theEcole  Imperiale  Militaire,  once 
the  West  Point  of  France,  now  more  barrack  than  school ; 
and  on  the  southwest  the  boundary  of  the  second  long  side 
is  the  Avenue  Suffren.  Only  a  few  hundreds  of  yards 
away,  diagonally,  at  the  southeastern  corner,  rises  the  great 
Dome  of  the  Hotel  des  Invalides  (of  course  under  repair — 
possibly  regilding — and  disfigured  by  scafiblding,  duiing 
this  particular  summer  of  1867,  when  all  eyes  were  to  see 
it) ;  the  Civil  and  Military  Normal  Gymnasium  almost 
touches  the  southwestern  side  of  the  quadrangle  ;  while 
the  Military  Hospital  (entirely  distinct  from  the  Invalides, 
as  many  do    not   suppose)   holds   corresponding   position 

opposite  the  northeastern. 
2* 


34  PARIS  IN  '67. 

Standing  at  the  Pont  de  Jena,  and  sweeping  the  eye 
over  Paris  proper,  the  great  architectural  points  presenting 
themselves  are  the  Arc  d'Etoile  rising  high  over  all,  a  mile 
due  northward ;  the  long  and  low,  but  magnificent  Palais 
d'Industrie  (place  of  the  Exposition  of  18GS)  thrusting  up 
its  tortoise  back  in  the  midst  of  the  Champs  Elysees, 
northeastward ;  farther  eastward  the  long  fa5ade  of  the 
Tuileries  and  the  Louvre,  seeming  to  gird  the  whole  thither 
side  of  the  Seine  with  stonework ;  yet  farther  eastward 
and  up  the  river,  the  two  unrivaled  square  towers  of  Notre 
Dame  rising  out  of  the  confused  mass  of  two  or  three  miles 
of  lower  edifices ;  and  half  behind,  southeastward,  the 
Dome  of  the  Invalides.  A  memorable  view  from  a  nota- 
ble position  ;  and  yet  one  sinking  into  insignificance  in  the 
recollections  of  those  who  have  paused  on  the  other  side 
of  the  Seine,  on  the  heights  descending  to  the  Pont  de 
Jena,  and  caught  all  these  glories  from  that  much  higher 
level,  with  the  Exposition  building  itself  added  as  a  crown- 
ing feature.     Tliat  is  a  picture  not  easily  forgotten. 

Such  is  the  site  of  the  Champ  de  Mars :  now  a  few 
words  of  its  origin  and  that  of  its  name — the  latter,  very 
generally  misunderstood. 

No  trap  is  more  specious  or  more  difficult  to  be  avoided 
than  that  which  the  French  language  sets  for  the  super- 
ficial English  reader  of  it  (as  does  the  English  for  the 
Frenchman),  in  the  resemblance  of  words  which  really 
mean  something  very  difi'erent ;  and  of  all  the  captures 
made  by  this  trap,  a  thousand  to  one  have  been  baited  by 
that  compound  word — "  Champ  de  Mars,"  "  Mars,"  in  the 
Latin  derivations  and  in  English,  means  the  God  of  War ; 
the  Champ  de  Mars  has  been  almost  exclusively  used, 
within  general  knowledge,  as  a  place  of  review  for  armies ; 
ergo,  in  the  public  mind,  and  without  pausing  to  consider 
another  meaning  for  the  word,  the  "  Champ  de  Mars  "  has 
been  the  Field  of  the  God  Mars— the  "Field  of  War." 


THE    CHAMP    DE   MARS.  35 

So  far  has  this  idea  gone,  that  the  Emperor,  in  a  late  decla- 
ration with  reference  to  the  past  and  future  uses  of  the 
field,  was  understood  by  thousands  to  be  making  especial 
allusion  to  the  name^  and  to  the  propriety  of  changing  it 
to  the  "  Champ  de  la  Paix,"  the  "Field  of  Peace,"  while 
such  a  lingual  idea  in  his  mind  was  purely  impossible. 

Tl^e  Champ  de  Mars  is  simply  the  Field  of  March  (no 
military  pun  intended  on  the  latter  word),  just  as  it  might 
have  been  the  Champ  de  Janvier  or  Aout — Field  of  January 
or  August.  And  the  name  seems  to  have  been  derived  from 
the  great  gatherings  of  the  early  French  (or  Frankish) 
warriors,  under  the  Merovingian  and  Carlovingian  dynas- 
ties, always  held  in  March  or  May,  and  named  as  "  Fields  " 
accordingly. 

The  Champ  de  Mars  has  made  its  wonderful  record 
rapidly,  for  it  has  no  place  in  antiquity.  Less  than  two 
hundred  years  ago  it  seems  to  have  been  a  collection  of 
dust-heaps — a  sort  of  "  dumping-ground"  beyond  the  Seine 
from  what  was  then  "Paris"  at  all  its  western  portion. 
Its  existence  as  a  public  ground  seems  to  have  been  de- 
rived from  the  Ecole  Militaire  at  its  southeastern  end, 
founded  by  virtuous  Louis  XV.  about  1750,  as  a  place  of 
military  training  for  those  noble  but  not  too  brilliant  youths 
who  were  thenceforth  (by  his  edict)  to  crowd  all  plebeians 
out  of  the  higher  grades  of  the  French  armies.  For  this 
nascent  West  Point,  the  Champ  was  graded  as  a  riding- 
school  and  place  of  parade. 

But  the  shadow  of  the  Revolution  loomed,  and  France 
was  too  wise  (England  never  has  been)  to  allow  that  edict 
to  remain  in  force.  The  brawn  and  brains  of  the  plebeians 
were  wanted  in  the  commissions  as  well  as  the  ranks  of 
the  armies.  The  Ecole  Royale  Militaire  became  a  cavalry 
barrack,  and  the  Champ  de  Mars  a  Hounslow  or  Fifteen 
Acres  for  general  military  evolutions  and  public  gatber- 
3 


36  PARIS    IK    '67. 

ings.  Very  soon  after  it  began  to  be  grandly  historical, 
as  the  great  convulsion  ripened  and  bore  bloody  fruit. 

On  the  14th  of  July,  1790,  the  Champ  witnessed  the 
most  magnificent  of  all  spectacles  preceding  the  present, 
and  one  excelling  it  in  many  particulars,  but  more  fruitless 
for  good  than  this  can  possibly  be  under  the  most  unfor- 
tunate of  circumstances.  The  monarchy  was  fallings  and 
there  was  an  effort  to  be  made  for  its  preservation.  The 
Champ  de  Mars  was  selected  as  the  scene  of  the  effort. 
(Malicious  tongues,  before  referred  to,  have  hinted  that  the 
effort  of  tlie  cuiTent  year  was  made  for  a  like  purpose, 
again  by  a  falling  dynasty  ;  but  that  is  the  merest  specu- 
lation.) 

The  Feast  of  the  Federation,  in  which  all  France  swore 
to  be  brethren,  with  the  king  as  an  elder  brother,  was 
called  then  in  the  Champ  de  Mars.  The  field  was  con- 
verted into  a  vast  amphitheater,  capable  of  containing  half 
a  million  within  the  possibilities  of  sight ;  and  to  accom- 
plish its  remodeling,  not  only  twelve  thousand  men 
labored  for  weeks,  but,  as  the  time  approached  and  much 
remained  to  be  done,  priests,  nobles,  and  even  women, 
handled  shovels  and  trundled  wheelbarrows,  while  parties 
of  relief  from  the  suburbs  marched  in  with  flags  and  ban- 
ners. And  when  the  great  day  came,  Louis  XVL  and  his 
court  occupied  a  lofty  platform  in  front  of  the  Military 
School  (this  season  forming  the  Belgian  Park),  four  hun- 
dred thousand  people  filled  the  raised  sides  of  the  amphi- 
theater, and  sixty  thousand  armed  federals  surrounded 
the  altar  on  which  Lafayette  laid  the  civic  oath  just  re- 
ceived from  the  king,  to  be  sworn  to  by  the  whole  assem- 
bly with  one  shout,  after  Talleyrand  (then  Bishop  of  Autun, 
and  unsuspicious  of  ministerial  fame)  had  concluded  a 
grand  mass,  served  by  no  less  than  three  hundred  priests. 
A  glo lions  fraternization — to  close  in  the  blood  of  king 
and  people,  how  soon  J 


THE    CHAMP    DH    MAES.  37 

For  on  the  same  spot,  a  year  and  two  days  thereafter 
(16th  of  July,  1791),  in  the  tumult  following  the  unfortu- 
nate foiled  flight  of  the  king  to  Varennes,  Lafayette  and 
Bailly,  striving  to  dispei'se  the  crowd  clamoring  for  depo- 
sition, fired  (no  doubt  necessarily  enough)  on  the  crowd, 
after  they  had  murdered  two  invalid  soldiers  under  the  yet- 
standing  "  National  Altar," — and  some  hundreds  of  lives 
were  sacrificed,  giving  the  human  wolf  his  taste  of  blood. 
There,  two  years  later,  Bailly  paid  with  his  blameless  life 
for  the  crime  of  living  in  such  an  age. 

Then,  with  some  minor  events  intervening,  came  the 
great  days  of  the  First  Empire,  and  the  Champ  de  Mars 
played  a  prominent  part  in  the  pageantry  of  those  days 
when  "  Europe  would  have  pomp  and  tinsel,  and  Napoleon 
gave  them  to  her,"  as  well  says  that  splendid  verbal  mad- 
man who  supplied  us  with  the  "  Napoleon  Dynasty."  In 
the  Champ  it  was  that,  in  conjunction  with  innumerable 
reviews  of  the  veterans  who  had  won  and  were  winning 
Europe, — three  days  after  his  coronation  at  Notre  Dame, 
and  on  the  verge  of  that  wonderful  campaign  which  pro- 
duced Ulm  and  Austerlitz,  and  made  suppliants  of  two 
emperors, — Napoleon  with  his  own  hands  distributed  to 
the  different  corps  the  eagles  which  they  were  to  bear  to 
victory  above  their  banners — some  of  the  very  eagles, 
alas !  which  now  stand  tarnished  beside  his  tomb  in  the 
Invalides. 

Another  and  a  later  pageant  of  the  great  Emperor — 
sadder,  in  the  light  of  its  broken  promises.  The  Champ 
de  Mars  was  then  a  "  Champ  de  Mai,"  when  on  the  first  of 
June,  1815,  during  the  Hundred  Days,  Napoleon  pro- 
claimed the  Acfe  Additionnel  before  marching  to  Waterloo, 
again  distributed  his  eagles  and  received  fealty.  Another 
magnificent  spectacle,  this,  and  seemingly  enthusiastic ; 
but  it  was  hollow  and  melancholy ;  for,  to  quote  the 
irreverent  Victor  Hugo,  "  God  was  tired  of  Napoleon." 


38  PARIS    IN    '67. 

The  Champ  de  Mars  knew  him  no  more,  except  as,  in  that 
weirdly-beautiful  poem  of  Baron  Teidlitz,  before  quoted 
by  the  same  writer  in  another  connection  ("  Over-Sea"), 
the  ghost-emperor  has  ever  since  been  holding  there  the 
"  midnight  review  "  of  his  shadowy  cohimns. 

It  was  here  that  Charles  X.  dissolved  the  National 
Guard,  when  he  could  no  longer  trust  them,  a  few  days 
before  the  revolution  of  July,  1830;  and  it  was  here  that 
Louis  Philippe  (who  could  trust  them  for  a  time)  dis- 
tributed the  colors  to  the  same  Guard,  re-constituted,  soon 
after  his  accession.  And  here,  passing  by  the  fetes  and 
reviews,  and  even  the  occasional  horse-races  which  occu- 
pied it  during  the  comparatively  quiet  days  of  the  Citizen 
King, — here  it  was  that  yet  another  eagle  distribution  took 
place,  when  Napoleon  the  Third  proclaimed  the  Second 
Empire,  in  1851,  and  became  the  special  heir  of  his  great 
uncle's  strengths,  weaknesses  and  traditions. 

Here  it  was  that,  in  the  summer  of  1865, 1,  the  Gov- 
ernor, saw  the  most  uninteresting,  ill-shaded,  ill-swarded, 
dusty,  hot  and  uncomfortable  parade-ground  that  had  ever 
fallen  under  my  notice — so  blindiugly  and  chokingly  dusty 
that,  as  my  cab  rolled  over  it,  I  was  obliged  to  close  eyes 
and  mouth  against  the  rising  cloud  of  chalky  loam ;  so 
tasteless,  and  without  any  redeeming  point  except  immense 
size,  that  I  could  not  avoid  exclaiming  as  I  left  it :  "  Well, 
the  Lord  help  any  Frenchman  who  calls  that  a  public 
ground,  and  is  not  ashamed  of  it!" 

Here  it  is  that  during  this  current  season  of  1 867, 1  have 
seen  the  greatest  collection  of  the  industries  and  arts  of  all 
nations,  that  the  world  ever  saw;  a  central  wonder  in 
architecture,  more  than  matched  by  its  surroundings  of 
minor  buildings  showing  the  architecture  and  taste  in 
dwellings,  of  all  lands ;  even  these  excelled  by  the  taste 
in  floriculture  and  arboriculture,  which  has  made  the 
whole  little  else  than  a   dream  of  fairy  land;    and  the 


THE    CHAMP    DE    MARS.  39 

French  Park,  especially,  the  rival  if  not  the  superior  of 
Versailles  and  the  Royal  Gardens  of  Kew. 

But  of  this  latter  feature,  the  filling  and  adornment  of 
the  groimds,  something  more  at  length  in  its  due  order 
and  in  another  paper. 


I 


V. 


HOW    PARIS    "PREPARED   TO   RECEIVE   BOARDERS." 

Importani'  events  have  their  petty  details  as  well  as 
their  glittering  generalities  ;  even  the  grandest  army  does 
not  move  without  its  ragged,  dirty  and  disorganized  camp- 
followers  (unless,  like  Sherman's  "bummers,"  they  go  in 
advance!).  Paris,  destined  to  be  the  scene  of  the  great 
gathering,  had  a  duty  foreshadowed,  and  proceeded  to  fulfill 
it  with  desperate  energy — the  duty  of  receiving  a  visiting 
world,  supplying  it  (a  la  Mugby  Junction)  with  the  least 
possible  of  comfort  at  the  greatest  possible  price,  aud  gen- 
erally combining  the  "  profitable  "  with  the  "  pleasant." 

Superficially,  under  the  emperor's  command,  Paris 
washed  its  face  and  put  on  its  Sunday  raiment,  very  early 
in  the  event.  Half-finished  boulevards  were  pushed  for- 
ward with  even  exceptional  rapidity  ;  Baron  Haussmann, 
it  is  probable,  tore  down  fewer  houses,  and  left  fewer 
ragged  chinmey-ways  exposed  to  sun  and  sight,  than  at 
any  corresponding  period,  since  his  assumption  of  the  Pre- 
fecture ;  obstructing  piles  of  stone  aud  mortar  became  even 
unusually  rare,  and  local  deformities,  generally,  were  cov- 
ered with  a  skill  which  would  have  excited  the  envy  of  the 
most  accomplished  female  chamber-diplomatist;  the  dust 
commanded  to  lie  still,  and  not  offend  the  eyes  and  nostrils  ; 
the  trees  to  leaf  (not  leave)  at  their  very  earliest ;  and  thus, 
and  in  a  thousand,  other  nameless  modes,  was  the  great  city 
garnished  for  the  rush  of  new  comers — as  when  the  minis- 
ter's lady  and  a  few  other  ^  illage  notables  are  expected  .it 


''PREPARING    FOR    BOARDERSy      41 

a  country  abode,  on  some  pleasant  afternoon  "  to  tea,"  and 
swept  door-ways,  tidied-up  rooms,  white  aprons,  clean  caps 
for  the  elders,  and  the  washed  faces  6f  children,  becoma 
the  most  easily  distinguishable  features  of  the  occasion. 

But  all  this  comprised  only  a  tithe  of  the  labor  of  prepa- 
ration. In  a  local  romance  of  not  many  years  ago,  the  morn- 
ing exordium  of  a  certain  general-dealer  in  a  small  way,  to 
his  second  in  command,  was  said  to  be:  "John,  sand  the 
sugar,  plaster  the  flour,  water  the  liquors,  mark  up  all  the 
dry  goods  twenty  per  cent,  and  then  come  in  to  prayers!" 
Paris,  as  a  careful  and  prudent  city  should  have  done,  per- 
formed all  the  other  requirements  without  going  in  to 
prayers. 

Everybody,  who  has  ever  been  to  Paris,  knows  that 
there  are  no  "houses"  in  it — indeed  none  in  France,  the 
English  and  American  (and  even  the  German)  acceptiitinn 
of  the  word  being  taken  as  the  standard.  The  French 
"lodge" — no  more;  it  is  doubtful  whether  all  of  them 
even  do  so  much,  of  what  is  generally  considered  "living." 
They  have  no  privacy,  comparatively,  and  seem  to  desire 
none.  Their  food  is  eaten  on  the  sidewalk,  in  front  of  some 
cafe,  or  in  the  cafe  itself,  with  the  doors  and  windows 
open,  and  laughter,  rattling  of  spoons  and  plates  and  clink- 
ing of  glasses,  not  only  attracting  but  seeming  to  invite 
observation. 

A  consequence  of  this,  or  perhaps  a  part  of  it,  is  that  the 
Frenchman  does  not  desire  much  special  privacy  in  even 
the  household  details  of  living,  outside  of  the  food  ques- 
tion. The  idea  that  one  should  prefer  to  have  an  outer 
door  into  which  no  other  family  than  his  own  should  come, 
except  as  visitors,  is  not  half  so  likely  to  enter  his  head  as 
that  of  a  new  frippery  in  fl\shion,  a  new  war,  or  a  new 
barricade.  Except  in  the  mansions  of  the  very  rich,  there 
are  few  "  separate  houses "  in  the  Fi'ench  territories. 
Wealth  and  comparative  poverty — often  great  wealth  and 


42  PARIS    IN    '6  7. 

abject  poverty — assured  position,  and  position  worse 
than  doubtful,  enter  at  the  same  outer  door,  are  served  by 
the  same  co;iae/*^e  ^porter),  ascend  the  same  lower  escalier 
(stair-way),  and  have  theii*  household  smoke  make  exit  by 
the  same  chimney ;  the  only  perceptible  difference  being 
(to  an  outsider,  and  supposing  a  very  possible  case),  that 
'•'•milord''''  lodges  au  deuxieme,  and  pays  a  round  pric;e  for 
his  accommodation ;  that  Mons.  Pinchot,  the  small  mer- 
chant, has  his  tenement  aic  troisieme,  and  pays  a  rent  con- 
siderably diminished  ;  that  Parbleu,  the  mechanic,  is  loca- 
ted au  quatrieme,  and  still  foils  in  rent  as  he  rises  in  alti- 
tude ;  that  possibly  Mile.  Florine,  of  the  demi-monde,  but 
comfortable  therein,  comes  au  cinquietne,  paying  still  a 
shade  less  than  her  next  lower  neighbor  (though  the  fact 
may  be  that  she  and  Parbleu  change  place?)  ;  that  Xanine 
comes  next,  au  sixieme — a  grisette  of  the  actual  type,  still 
struggling  for  labor  and  respectability,  and  making  the 
pot  boil  on  very,  very  little,  in  rent,  dietetically  and  sarto- 
rially;  and  that  au  sej)tleme,  up  among  the  chimney-pots, 
the  swallows,  the  tiles,  moss,  and  occasional  sunshine, 
old  mother  Gringoire,  the  chiffoniere,  crawls  to  her  garret, 
crust  and  rags. 

Mons.  Le  Fran^ais  and  Madatfie  sa  femme,  if  they 
chance  to  be  so  located  that  a  small  house  is  all  their  own, 
for  business  or  other  purposes,  have  correspondingly  small 
objection  to  breaking  the  privacy  of  what  we  call  a  "floor," 
and  they  an  "  etage^  What  is  it  to  them  who  enters  or 
who  departs,  or  what  (short  of  murder  or  coining — amena- 
ble to  police  discipline,  and  therefore  troublesome  to  land- 
lords) goes  on  in  the  very  next  room  to  that  in  which  they 
themselves  repose,  so  that  rent  is  duly  paid,  no  proprieties 
ai-e  openly  outraged,  doors  are  kept  locked,  and  no  awk- 
ward peep  holes  achieved?  They  are  not  "their  brothers' 
keepers,"  or  eke  those  of  their  "  sisters,"  in  the  detail  of 
morals ;  woidd  the  world  be  better  or  worse  (the  doubt 


''PREPARINa    FOR    BOARDERS:'      43 

arises)  if  there  were  more  persons  like  them  in  this  par- 
ticular ? 

To  what  does  all  this  tend  ?  To  one  of  the  points  indi- 
cated in  the  opening  of  this  paper — the  readiness  of  Paris, 
individually  and  collectively,  to  receive  lodgers,  during 
the  Exposition,  and  to  make  the  most  of  them  !  To  "  lick  " 
into  "  receptivity  "  anything  in  the  shape  of  an  unoccu- 
pied or  half-occupied  room,  boudoir  or  pig-stye,  from  au- 
dessoKs  to  the  very  tiles,  capable  of  taking  in  a  bed  and  a 
wash-stand  (not  necessarily  a  carpet — carpets  are  not  indis- 
pensable in  the  land  of  wooden  "  parquetrie ;"  but  woe  to 
the  wight,  male  or  female,  who  forgets  the  necessary  slip- 
pers and  wanders  thereon  while  dressing  and  undressing !) — 
capable  of  taking  in  those  details,  I  say,  and  then  and  thence- 
forth "  taking  in,"  more  or  less  in  two  senses,  a  certain 
number  of  the  "  outside  barbarians  "  clamoring  for  admis- 
sion to  the  Parisian  paradise. 

Do  not  let  me  be  understood  as  intending  to  apply  these 
terms  of  undervaluation  to  all  Parisian  lodging-houses, 
supplied  during  the  current  year  or  previously.  Benevo- 
lent shades  of  Madame  S and  Mrs.  D ,  respected 

furnishers  of  appartements  meublees^  in  the  past,  the  com- 
pleteness of  which  must  have  mollified  the  tempers  of  the 
most  exigeant  of  icell-posted  travelers  (nothing  could  mol- 
lify the  green-horn — he  knows  nothing,  and  so  exjjects 
everything  !) ;  and  yet  more  certainly  forbid  such  an  asper- 
sion, substantial  but  very  pleasant  matronly  shade  of  dear 

Madame  W ,  at  whose  cozy  au  quatrieme  in  the  Rue 

Mazagran,  under  the  round  arch  that  looked  so  welcome 
when  we  came  home  late  at  night,  tired  and  sleepy,  from 
long  rambles  on  the  boulevards — the  Captain  and  Anna 
Maria  and  the  Governor  passed  some  pleasant  and  memora- 
ble days  and  nights !  Were  not  your  "  appartements  "  clean 

and  well-fiu-nished  and  comibrtable,  dear  Madame  W ? 

Did  not  the  waxed  parquetrie  shine  like  a  sideboard,  all 


44  PARIS    IN    '6  7. 

the  while  ? — and  were  there  not  towels  and  napkins  and 
water  in  abundance  ? — and  did  you  scruple  to  afford  us 
that  un-French  commodity  of  supply,  du  savon,  when  we 
chanced  to  lack  it  for  a  day  ?  (some  of  us  ha\  e  lacked 
the  other  kind  of  "  soap "  many  a  day) — and  were  there 
any  "  bougies  "  charged  for  that  we  did  not  fairly  con- 
sume?— and  did  Etienne  (who  fell  in  love  with  Anna 
Maria,  and  wanted  to  learn  to  talk  a  few  words  of  English, 
so  that  he  could  express  his  admiration  othe^^vise  than  by 
upturned  eyes,  so  much)  ever  fail  to  bring  us  rolls  that 
were  flaky  and  eggs  that  were  nascent,  tea  and  coffee 
retaining  their  orientalism,  and  fruit  that  had  not  yet 
lost  its  memory  of  nature,  for  those  savory,  qniet  little 
breakfasts  and  suppers  ? — and  was  there  ever  a  failure  to 
meet  a  cheerful  word  from  the  old  concierge  at  the  gate 
below,  or  to  find  those  keys  on  the  proper  hook  of  the 
key-board,  and  sometimes,  what  was  better  still,  your 
own  calm,  benevolent,  matronly  face,  and  a  good-will  greet- 
ing not  paid  for  or  expected  to  be  paid  for,  within  the  lit- 
tle double  door  of  frosted  glass,  of  the  entresol  f — and 
when  one  day  we  honored  the  moderate  addition  in  the 
quiet  parlor,  and  prepared  to  come  away,  was  it  not  with, 
a  regret  and  a  promise  to  come  again,  on  the  one  side,  and 
a  warm  invitation  to  do  so  on  the  other  ?  Were  not  all 
these  things    as  I   have   stated   them,   good,   considerate 

Madame   W ? — and   if   they   Avere   so,   are   Parisian 

lodging-houses  to  be  indiscriminately  voted  "  nuisances  " 
and  their  keepers  "harpies?"  Not  "while  this  right 
hand  retains" — not  its  "cunning,"  for  it  never  had  any — 
but  its  propensity  for  scribbling  personalities  ! 

Nay,  was  there  not  something  more  (and  this  with  sad 
reverence) — something  more,  that  invested  that  tidy  white 
cap  and  the  modest  mourning  symbols  of  your  attire  with 
a  light  like  that  which  may  have  shone  on  the  mourning 
Madonna  ? — a  romance  of  the  bleeding  heart  of  the  mother, 


''PREPARING    FOR    BOARDERS:'      45 

sacred  in  a  Parisian  lodging-house  as  if  it  had  been  woven 
in  a  palace  or  conceived  in  a  boudoir  ? 

Did  you  not  tell  us  of  dear  lost  Celestine,  whose  face 
wt  never  saw,  but  imaged  it  thenceforth — how  she  clung 
to  you  and  to  herself,  refusing  marriage-offers  that  sought 
her  "  dot "  and  not  her  womanhood,  until  the  master  came 
and  she  wedded  and  went  regretfully  away  from  you? 
Then  how  she  named  the  buildings  and  walks  of  her  lit- 
tle German  home,  the  "Louvre"  and  the  "Madeleine" 
and  the  "  Champs  Elysees  "  of  the  Paris  she  had  loved 
so  well;  and  how  she  wrote  you  home  such  sweet,  modest 
letters  of  regretful  happiness ;  and  then  how  she  was  to 
visit  you  in  the  mingled  glory  of  bride  and  mother,  and 
you  waited  and  watched  for  her  so  fondly;  and  how  then 
the  letter  came  with  its  black  seal,  to  tell  you  that  the  dar- 
ling daughter  would  visit  you  no  more  on  earth,  forever ! 

Ah,  dear  jMadame  W !  these,  alas !  are  real  like  the 

others  ;  the  mourning,  I  know,  will  never  go  out  from  that 
fiithful  mother's  heart,  any  more  than  the  sombre  hue  from 
that  garb  or  the  tears  from  your  eyes  when  you  speak  of 
her!  It  is  only  a  "chance-boarder"  speaking  poor  words 
of  comfort  to  a  lodging-house  keeper;  but  the  orison  will 
work  you  no  evil :  God  comfort  and  bless  you,  and  in  his 
own  good  time  give  you  a  happy  and  an  eternal  meeting 
with  lost  Celestine  ! 

But  they  were  not  all  Madame  TV 's ;    were  they, 

good  people  from  every  land,  making  your  temporary  home 
in  Paris  during  the  summer  of  1867? — and  cannot  you,  as 
well  as  I,  imagine  how  the  individual  desire  for  the  rapid 
accumulation  of  wealth  (something  about  which,  of  course, 
Americans  know  nothing,  especially  since  the  rebellion  !) 
— how  this  must  have  been  stimulated,  at  the  opening  of 
the  Exposition,  by  the  conduct  of  those  in  charge  of 
that  "show,"  letting  out  to  the  highest  bidder,  or  the 
most  subservient  tool,  the  privilege   of  doing  anything, 


46  PARIS    IN    '67. 

selling  anything,  or  letting  anything  be  done,  in  or  around 
the  building  or  park — from  the  retailing  of  soda-water  or 
newspapers,  to  the  blacking  of  boots,  the  carrying  away 
of  the  likeness  of  any  object  through  the  aid  of  the  photo- 
graph, or  even  the  luxury  of  sitting  down  in  a  chair  or  on 
a  bench,  to  rest  the  over-wearied  limbs  for  a  single 
moment ! 

Lest  these  latter  details  should  seem  like  exaggeration  to 
absentees,  let  me  say,  here,  that  more  than  one  arrest  was 
made  of  unfortunates  who  dared  to  be  caught  taking  pho- 
tographic sketches  of  any  particular  object,  without  pay- 
ing roundly  for  the  privilege  (a  proceeding  unknown  to 
Americans  before  or  since  the  lately-decapitated  and 
immensely-regretted  War-Secretary  Stanton  "  snapped  " 
ray  good  friends,  the  Gurneys,  with  a  file  of  soldiers,  for* 
photographing  the  Lincoln  obsequy  decorations,  in  the 
New  York  City  Hall),  and  that  so  conclusive  and  servile 
was  the  "  farming  out "  of  everything  in  and  about  the 
Palace,  that  even  the  right  of  the  management  to  retain  a 
single  seat  for  visitors  was  disputed  by  those  who  had 
bought  the  "sitting  privilege,"  and  two  or  three  hun- 
dred long  settees  originally  provided  and  erected  for  free 
use  in  various  parts  of  the  building,  taken  up  by  force 
and  pitched  out  into  a  waste  corner  of  the  Park,  where 
they  lay  rotting  during  the  balance  of  the  summer,  that — 
well,  I  will  not  mention  and  so  advertise  the  contempti- 
ble name  of  the  contracting  firm — might  manufacture  dis- 
eases of  the  abdomen  and  coin  money  at  their  own  sweet 
will.* 


♦During  the  printing  of  this  work  another  pleasant  development  has  been  made  in 
thi!  aftair  of  seats  at  the  Exposition,  thus  detailed  in  one  of  the  foreign  newspapers 
reaching  America  in  September; — 

"  An  extraordinary  scene  was  witnessed  at  the  Exhibition  on  Friday,  the  23d.  At 
8  o'clock  in  tne  morning  the  Imperial  (Joinmission  made  its  appearance  with  a  pro- 
cession of  carts  and  a  few  dozen  crowbars,  and  without  any  warning  carried  off  the 
chairs  and  tables  which  the  proprietors  of  the  cafes  and  restaurants  had  placed  out- 


''PREPABING    FOR    BOARDERS^      47 

There  are  some  other  details  of  the  "  farming  out "  sys- 
tem that  I  have  no  idea  of  giving,  out  of  respect  at  once 
to  the  moral  and  physical  senses  of  readers ;  but  how  long 
after  this  before  we  shall  hear  the  next  echo  of  abuse  from 
European  organs  of  opinion  against  the  "  disgusting  Amer- 
ican worship  of  the  almighty  dollar  ?" 

''  Grab "  (to  use  an  expressive  modernism,  not  in  the 
dictionaries  as  a  substantive) — "  grab  "  was  the  official 
"  game  " — why  should  it  not  be  that  of  the  private  indi- 
vidual ?  Such  another  opportunity  might  not  again  occur 
during  a  lifetime ;  and  there  were  no  doubt  many  Parisi- 
ans who  remembered  what  King  William  of  Holland  was 
charged  for  eggs  during  one  of  his  royal  progresses — a 
dollar  each,  not  because  eggs  were  peculiarly  scarce,  but 
because  kings  wej'e  !  "  Hit  him  again,  he  has  no  friends  !" 
and  "  Skin  him,  he  is  away  from  home  and  in  our  power, 
and  we  may  never  catch  him  again!" — the  two  mottoes 
sprung  from  the  same  source,  and  reflected  equal  credit  on 
their  originators. 

But  here  I  have  local  aid,  and  let  me  use  it — the  aid 
of  my  friend  the  Old  Corporal,  a  New  Orleanian  by  birth, 
but  a  uon-commissioned  officer  in  the  French  army  through- 


side  their  premises  for  the  accommodation  of  the  public  since  the  opening  of  the 
Exhibition.  Several  violent  tableaux  took  place.  Immediately  after  the  seizure  the 
English  restaurant-keepers  stuck  up  outside  a  notice,  which,  not  being  to  the  taste 
of  the  Commission,  was  torn  down  by  the  police.  They  then  closed  their  doors  and 
stuck  up  another  notice  inside.  This,  however,  was  doomed  to  the  same  fate  ;  the 
police  broke  open  the  doors,  and  again  tore  down  the  objectionable  placard.  The  re- 
sult of  all  this  was  that  the  majority  of  the  cafes  and  restaurants  shut  up  shop  for 
the  day  and  the  unforiunate  public  had  to  walk  about  athirstand  hungry.  And  now 
for  the  cause  of  this  remarkable  proceeding:  The  Commission,  which  are  deter- 
mined to  make  money  anyhow,  had  given  to  M.  D the  right  to  place  chairs 

round  the  building,  notwithstanding  that  they  had  previously  let  to  these  same  res- 
taurant and  cafe  keepers  at  an  exorbitant  sum  the  places  they  occupy.     M.  D 

complained  that  they  had  no  right  to  place  chairs  outside  their  shops,  the  proprie- 
tors replied  that  they  had  paid  for  their  space  and  ought  to  have  it.     A  lawsuit  was 

the  consequence,  and  M.  D gained  the  day.     Such  is  one  of  the  good  results  of 

the  system  of  monopoly  invented  by  M  Le  Play." 


48  PARIS    IX    '67. 

out  both  the  Crimean  and  Italian  campaigns,  and  for  many 
of  the  intervening  and  succeeding  years  resident  at  Paris, 
■with  little  to  do  and  a  wandering  propensity  which  leads 
him  through  all  kinds  of  doubtful  streets  and  by-places. 
He  supplies  me  with  a  little  picture  of  what  he  saw  and 
heard  at  about  the  opening  of  the  Exposition,  in  the  way 
of  calculations  and  arrangements  among  the  humbler  indi- 
Tiduak  who  were  to  purvey  transit  for  the  host  of  new- 
comers, and  especially  for  the  expected  rush  of  Anaerican 
"  savages :" — 

"  I  was  going,"  says  the  Old  Corporal,  "  down  one  of 
the  narrow  but  important  streets  just  below  the  Bourse, 
and  not  far  from  the  Rue  Coq-Heron  and  the  Poste  Res- 
t;inte,  one  morning  late  in  March,  when  I  chanced  to  have 
occasion  to  stop  and  rub  a  fusee  for  my  cigar  at  a  blank, 
white  wall  with  double  and  single  doors  cutting  it,  and  a 
little  cart  standing  without,  looking  like  one  of  those 
employed  by  a  baker  in  a  small  way.  Just  as  I  rubbed 
the  fusee  the  little  door  partially  opened  and  a  man  stuck 
out  his  head,  then  left  it  half  closed  and  went  on  with  a 
conversation  which  had  apparently  been  only  for  a  moment 
interrupted. 

"  Now  I  had  no  occasion  whatever  of  listening  to  the 
words  of  this  baker,  for  such  his  whitey  cap  and  light 
clothes,  as  well  as  the  cart  without,  proclaimed  him  to  be ; 
and  I  certainly  should  not  have  done  so,  had  I  not  caught 
the  word  '  Araericaine !'  pronounced  with  that  hissing 
sound  only  known  to  a  Frenchman  when  he  is  endeavoring 
to  express  the  extremity  of  scorn  and  disgust.  But  1  hap- 
pen to  be  an  American  to  the  backbone,  in  spite  of  all  my 
years  of  French  service,  and,  in  ppite  of  the  fact,  too,  that 
I  believe  I  belong  to  a  section  not  recognized  as  '  part  of 
the  United  States.'  So  I  listened,  and  what  I  heard  in 
guttural  French  you  shall  have  in  the  best  idiomatic 
Franco-English  that  I  can  furnish,  except  here  and  thore  a 


''PREPARING    FOR    BOARDERS:'      49 

word  that  is  untranslatable.  I  think  you  will  recognize 
it  as  a  fair  indication  of  the  rods  that  Johnny  Crapaud  was 
pickling  for  you,  whether  you  have  by  this  time  received 
the  benefit  of  his  good  intentions  or  not. 

'"  Amt^ricans?  why  not  ?'  spoke  the  baker  with  a  repe- 
tition of  the  hiss.  *They  are  putting  to  the  sale  their  log- 
cabins,  to  arrive  at  this  civilized  France ;  and  they  come 
in  vessels  of  the  small  cost,  so  as  to  have  much  money  for 
their  occasions  here.  It  is  for  us  of  Paris — that  money 
remaining  in  their  pouches  ;  and  it  is  the  duty  of  that 
noble  Mirabeau  to  cause  to  reach  my  pockets  much  of 
it.' 

"  '  But  there  may  not  be  so  many  of  them,'  I  heard  the 
other  voice  reply;  'and  then  they  may  have  horses  in 
America,  since  to  them  visited  the  adventurous  Lafayette 
— who  knows?' 

"  '  Not  many  of  them  ?  Parhleu  P  hissed  back  the 
baker.  'They  will  be  like  the  locusts  of  the  Egypt  in 
number ;  and  those  savages  are  so  ignorant  that  they  do 
not  recognize  between  a  horse  and  an  ass.  What  Avould 
you  have  ?  I  reassure  you  that  they  will  ride  at  all  times 
— these  people  of  show  and  indolence — when  once  they 
arrive  at  a  country  of  civilization,  and  that  ray  horses  that 
are  not  matched,  of  the  Arabian  breed ' 

'•'•'•  Mille  Tonner res  P  the  other  broke  out,  impntiently. 
'  They  are  skeletons,  they  are  collections  of  bones !  They 
would  create  the  good  fortunes  of  a  doctor  who  physicked 
that  animal,  because  he  would  know  the  place  of  disposi- 
tion of  every  bone  in  their  bodies !  I  offer  to  you,  as  a 
great  favor,  the  purchase  of  these  fragments,  at  eight 
francs  each,  to  boil  thera  into  glue  and  dog-sustenance,  and 
you  refuse !  You  are  most  thick-headed,  my  friend  the 
baker  !'  This  hissed  out  nearly  as  contemptuously  as  the 
words  of  the  other  had  been,  and  informing  me  of  what  I 
had  before  suspected — that  the  baker's  interlocutor  was  a 


50  PARIS   IK   '67. 

knacker  or  buyer-up  of  Trorn-out  animals  for  the  glue  fac- 
tories and  dog-and-cat-meat  shops,  making  overtures  to 
relieve  the  other  of  what  he  did  not  feel  inclined  to  sell. 
But  the  fury  of  the  baker,  after  this  outburst,  was  terrifi- 
cally French  : — 

" '  Coquin  of  a  horse-destroyer,  you  would  devour  me 
without  holding^  pity  for  me  afterward !  Behold  in  the 
day-light  one  of  the  steeds  of  value  that  you  defame  ! 
Though  I  throw  away  my  words  of  importance  on  an  asin- 
ine person,  yet  see  what  shall  carry  the  American  savages 
and  other  islanders,  by  the  thousand  at  many  times,  at  a 
franc  and  two  francs  each  for  the  small  distances,  and  many 
francs  when  they  receive  transportation  to  Versailles  and 
St.  Denis !  AUcz,  Mu-abeau !  ray  noble  I  come  out  here 
and  be  visible  to  those  eyes  that  deserve  you  not !' 

"  Suddenly,  and  before  I,  horribly  fascinated  by  the  inter- 
esting conversation,  could  retreat  so  as  to  avoid  being  seen, 
the  larger  door  dashed  open,  and  the  baker,  little,  weazen- 
faced  and  grimacing,  emerged,  dragging  by  the  bridle  his 
Rosinante,  while  the  irate  and  disappointed  knacker  yet 
stood  within  what  I  now  saw  to  be  part  barn,  part  stable, 
and  the  remainder  wagon  and  lumber  room, 

"But  what  language  shall  describe  this  bit  of  horse- 
flesh, intended  for  transatlantic  delectation  otherwise  than 
through  the  medium  of  the  table  ?  Fully  of  age,  to  all 
appearance  (i.e.,  twenty-one  years  and  over)  ;  a  color  that 
had  once  been  bay  but  was  now  dirty  yellow  where  the 
lead-colored  weals  did  not  supply  a  *  neutral  tint ;'  one  eye 
gone  and  the  other  'cocked,'  as  if  strabismus  had  suddenly 
invaded  the  equine  family  ;  the  head  long  as  a  flour-barrel 
and  '  sprung'  like  the  double  curve  of  a  scythe  handle  ;  the 
hips  protuberant  and  each  '  knocked,'  sore,  and  ghastly ;  the 
ribs  convenient  for  counting,  but  the  galls  too  numerous 
for  that  exercise  ;  both  fore-knees  sprung,  and  one  fore- 
foot 'clubbed'  to  the  dimensions  of  elephantiasis — such, 


''PREPARIXG     FOR    BOARDERS:'      51 

feebly  depicted,  was  the  remarkable  equine  production — 
certainly  something  that  could  have  been  sent  to  the  zoo- 
logical department  of  the  Exposition  without  doubt  of 
receiving  one  of  the  prizes  for  '  extreme  rarity  and  unique 
qualities !'  You  have  some  gallant  steeds  in  New  York, 
harnessed  to  the  classical  clam-cart  and  alleged  to  cost  fifty 
cents  to  two-fifty  each  at  the  Second  Avenue  and  Fifty- 
Fourth  Street  Tattersalls ;  exaggerate  the  worst  of  them 
that  can  stand  erect  without  propping,  by  say  fifty  per 
cent.,  and  then  you  may  form  some  idea  of  ray  discovery 
in  natural  history,  though  a  slight  one. 

"  The  knacker  was  confounded — I  could  see  that  he  was, 
though  I  do  not  presume  to  say  whether  he  was  vanquished 
by  the  splendid  points  of  the  animal  and  the  shame  of 
having  offered  to  devote  such  a  marvel  of  equine  beauty 
to  the  shambles  of  his  trade,  or  bj'.the  horrifying  reflection 
that  he  had  risked  being  obliged  to  pay  eight  francs  there- 
for !  At  all  events  he  was  silent,  only  uttering  a  single 
'  Humph,'  which  may  mean  anything,  with  a  Frenchman  ; 
and,  ignoring  my  presence,  the  baker  grew  more  voluble 
as  the  other  '  subsided  :'•— 

"'Delay  yet  for  some  moments!'  he  rather  squealed 
than  spoke.  '  You  have  imagination  that  I  shall  be  com- 
pelled to  the  purchase  of  a  voiture  for  the  conveyance  of 
those  foreign  canaille.  Behold,  with  complete  prepara- 
tion !'  And  with  the  native  celerity  of  a  Frenchman,  one 
moment  sufficed  him  to  hitch  the  end  of  the  halter  in  the 
wheel  of  the  cart,  to  dash  through  the  door  and  emerge 
again,  shoving  out  a  vehicle  which  went  far  beyond  the 
horse  in  the  way  of  '  beggaring  description.' 

"  This  wonder  in  vehicular  architecture  had  been  a  cart, 
in  or  about  the  days  of  Charles  the  Tenth  (I  do  not  think 
that  it  could  have  seen  the  First  Empire),  and  no  doubt  at 
that  early  period  it  had  enjoyed  the  distinction  of  paint ; 
but  any  such  disguise  had  long  ago  been  worn  away  by 


52  PARIS    IN    '67. 

rain,  and  cracked  away  by  sun,  and  powdered  away  by 
the  cream-colored  dust  of  French  roads,  until  the  original 
hue  was  undiscoverable.  It  had  high  sides,  with  open 
upper  rails  ;  and  'raking'  end-boards,  like  those  of  a  Vir- 
ginia market-wagon  ;  and  the  '  near '  rail  had  been  broken 
but  neatly  mended  with  a  wrapping  of  fishermen's  twine. 
The  wheels  were  clumsy  enough  to  have  done  duty  under 
a  twenty-four  pounder,  and  dingy  enough  to  have  gone 
through  McClc'Uan's  campaign  on  the  Chickahominy.  For 
top,  it  had  four  bows,  or  hoops,  with  dirty  white  canvas 
loosely  suspended  over  them ;  one  of  the  side-curtains 
slitted,  but  '  repaired,'  apparently  with  rope-yarns ;  and  I 
was  pleased  to  see  that  uniformity  had  been  kept  up  by  the 
mendingofabroken  thill  with  a  bit  ofirou  hoop  wrapped  and 
nailed  around  it  For  seats  there  were  two  boards  run  along 
the  sides,  lengthwise,  with  a  strip  of  dirty  carpet  over  each  ; 
and  from  the  place  whe're  had  once  been  a  tail-board,  now 
removed,  depended  a  small  step-ladder,  lashed  fast  with  a 
rope, at  the  bottom  step  of  which  the  female  'guard'  was 
intended  to  stand,  do  the  screaming  for  fares  and  receive 
the  '  argent.' 

"  Ornament,  specially  so  designed,  this  stupendous  ve- 
hicle had  none ;  but  its  absence  was  atoned  by  a  legend 
in  dauby  black  on  a  dirty  white  board  hanging  along  the 
rolled-up  centre  cui'tain  :  "Service  Special  de  1'  Exposition." 
And  then,  to  my  thinking,  as  evidently  to  that  of  its  own- 
er, the  affair  was  complete. 

"'"Pb?7cr.^  pig!  coquin!  mechant P  squealed  the  baker, 
after  allowing  a  moment's  inspection  of  the  wonder,  con- 
joined with  the  animal  fated  to  draw  it.  '  You  would 
venture  to  suggest  having  me  make  disposal  of  my  noble 
horses,  would  you,  after  seeing  this  voiture  of  preparation 
which  shall  comfort  the  savages  of  Americans  and  cause 
to  arrive  to  me  much  wealth  !  Sacr-r-r  !  I  could  do  my- 
self a  violence,  to  think  that  I  have  been  insulted  thus ! 


''PREPARIXG    FOR    BOARDERS:'      53 

Go,  pig  of  a  glue-maker,  and  remember  that  I  shall  be 
dangerous  when  reaches  me  the  next  insult  to  the  dignity 
of  my  tnenage  /' 

"  The  knacker  did  go,  I  am  of  opinion,  without  further 
interlocution.  7" did,  at  all  events,  while  the  irate  baker 
was  dragging  back  '  Mirabeau '  and  running  back  his  cart 
— myself  pondering,  the  while,  on  the  pleasant  prospects 
opening  to  the  '  American  savages  and  other  islanders '  in 
the  way  of  transportation  and  probably  of  many  other  de- 
tails of  '  life  in  Paris.' " 

It  must  have  been,  I  think,  from  some  such  actual  ob- 
server as  the  Old  Corporal,  that  a  graphic  New  Torh  Tri- 
bune correspondent  (probably  the  ubiquitous  "  G.  A.  T.") 
who  described  the  Opening  in  that  journal,  derived  the 
data  for  his  capital  imaginary  scene  in  a  Parisian  lodging- 
house,  at  about  the  same  period — which  must  be  quoted 
as  a  (better)  companion-piece  to  the  reality  just  sup- 
plied : — 

"  How  flushed  and  expectant  grew  the  light  and  vola- 
tile Parisians,  as  the  day  of  dedication  drew  near !  Taxes 
were  heavy  and  trade  was  little.  The  strangers  should 
make  money  plentiful.  They  were  mere  savages,  indeed, 
who  spoke  gutturally,  like  hogs  and  horses,  but  France  was 
too  polite  to  show  the  disdain  she  felt,  and  so  the  price  of 
lodgings  went  up  one  hundred  per  cent.  You  could  hear 
your  true  Frenchman — who  has  no  notion  of  geography — 
talking  thus  in  the  gate-keeper's  rooni  of  his  maison 
7neublee,  any  evening. 

'^'  Ma  folf  Nina,  we  must  give  all  our  boarders  the 
conge.  These  English  and  other  Kamschatkans  are  coming 
to  Pai-is  by  droves.  Hoav  much  did  I  say  that  the  entresol 
should  let  for?' 

"  '  A  thousand  francs,'  says  Xina,  '  we  got  two  hundred 
for  it.' 

" '  JVbm  de  Dieu  f — it  shall  be  fifteen  hundred.     Behold, 


54  PARIS    IN   '67. 

is  it  not  the  most  spacious  of  its  kind,  barring  the  seven 
elbows,  the  defective  flue,  and  the  rats  ?  Yes,  Nina,  it 
shall  be  fifteen  hundred.  These  Americans  and  Siberians 
know  nothing  of  [the  value  of]  money  !' 

" '  How  do  they  get  so  much,  I  wonder  ?'  says  Nina. 

"' Oh,  ^?arWe«  /  they  dig  it.     Cochones  P  ^ 

" '  It  would  be  a  good  place  to  marry  our  little  daugh- 
ter, Cocotte !' 

" '  Jamais  V  cries  the  gate-keeper,  '  what !  to  an  Amer- 
icaine — a  savage  like  that — that  she  may  wear  a  ring  in 
her  nose,  ride  a  camel,  and  keep  house  in  an  iceberg  !  The 
entresol  shall  be  set  down  at  fifteen  hundred,  and  after  to- 
day the  price  of  the  table  dliote  shall  be  ten  instead  of 
three  francs.'  " 

I  am  happy  to  assure  the  Old  Corporal,  as  well  as  the 
Tribune  correspondent,  that  the  best  (!)  anticipations  of 
both  were  realized.  From  the  highest  to  the  lowest  (with 
a  few  honorable  exceptions  of  which  there  has  been  or 
will  be  occasion  to  speak) — from  the  dealer  in  diamonds 
at  the  Palais  Royal  to  the  huckster  of  small  wares  along 
the  dead- walls  and  blind-alleys — from  the  tnarchand  des 
soies  on  the  boulevards  to  the  old  woman  who  peddled 
porte-raonnaies  and  paper  in  the  back  streets  leading  off 
from  the  lie  de  la  Cite — from  Hawse,  of  the  splendid  livery 
turn-outs  of  the  Rue  Marignan,  to  the  merest  "  one-horse  " 
liveryman  outside  the  "  remise  "  regulations  of  the  police 
— from  the  proprietors  of  the  Grand  Hotels  d'  Overcharge, 
on  the  boulevard,  and  De  Graball,  on  the  Rue  Rivoli, — 
all  and  every  one  of  the  Parisian  dealers,  with  the  few 
honorable  exceptions,  took  warning  from  the  supposed 
brevity  of  the  season  and  the  prudential  example  set  them 
at  the  Exposition,  and  made  immense  quantities  of  hay 
while  their  little  sun  was  shining. 

I  saw  fifteen  francs  each  paid  by  two  persons  per  day, 
for  mere  lodsfinors  in  the  same  little  room  in  the  Hotel 


''PREPARIXG    FOR    BOARDERS:'      55 

d'Overcbarge,  au  quaf>-ieme,  foi'  which  St.  Edward  and 
the  GoA'ernor  paid  four  francs  each  during  the  Exposition- 
less,  but  much  more  coinfortable,  Parisian  summer  of 
1865 — an  advance  of  only  about  three  hundred  per  cent. 
I  saw  the  Hotel  de  Gripemclose,  on  the  Rue  de  Fuss-and- 
feathers,  obliged  to  keep  to  old  prices  for  the  sake  of  re- 
taining custom,  set  such  meagre  tables  that  the  habitues 
would  have  become  Calvin  Edsons  if  they  had  not  resorted 
to  restaurants  between  meals  already  paid  for.  I  saw 
'■'■  appartements  meuhle'es''''  raised  to  from  twice  to  three 
times  their  former  price — no  luxury  or  comfort  added,  and 
the  attendance  not  so  good  as  of  old;  I  saw  thousand 
upon  thousand  of  American  dollars  spent  for  silks,  stuffs, 
bijouterie  and  gimcracks,  because  such  thii;igs  used  to  be 
"  cheap  at  Paris,"  and  orders  had  been  given  or  promises 
made,  when  so  high  had  the  temporary  extortion  reached 
that  they  could  have  been  bought  cheaper  (duty  and 
freight  out  of  the  calculation)  in  New  York  of  the  lost 
conscience ;  and  I  saw  so  many  other  things  of  the  same 
character,  and  so  Avearying  to  the  public  patience,  that, 
call  Paris  in  '67  an  unexceptionable  Paradise  who  will,  I 
claim  the  privilege  of  adding  to  the  picture  a  small  corner 
of  Purgatory, 

And  I  have  an  especial  word  of  comfort  to  the  Old 
Corporal.  His  cart  was  out  in  service,  and  I  rode  in  it — at 
least  I  rode  in  what  might  have  been  his  special  "  rattle- 
trap," with  the  "  noble  horse;"  while  there  were  plenty  of 
similar  ones  to  keep  it  in  countenance,  in  the  midst  of  the 
really  excellent  conveyances  provided  for  transit  between 
the  Bourse  and  the  Exposition,  the  Palais  Royal  and  the 
Exposition,  the  costly  cari'iages  of  wealth  and  nobility, 
and  the  handy  cabs  that  were  sometimes  to  be  found 
when  wanted,  in  going  to  or  coming  from  the  "  great 
show." 

Anna  Maria,   I  think,  will   remember   that  particular 


66  PARIS    I2T    '67. 

*'  voiture."  Hot  was  the  afternoon,  and  weary  with  much 
exercise  were  the  legs  (at  least  the  male  ones — I  have  no 
license  to  speak  authoritatively  of  the  others),  when  one  day 
we  strolled  Exposition-ward  up  the  right  bank  of  the  Seine 
from  the  Palais  d'Industrie.  Anna  Maria  eventually  sug- 
gested "a  carriage."  Carriage  or  cab,  there  was  none  in 
the  neighborhood.  Anna  Maria  suggested  "  an  omnibus  " 
— omnibus  passing  in  that  direction  came  not  within  the 
line  of  vision.  The  hot  sun  of  July  was  beating  upon  the 
head,  and  despair  and  incipient  sunstroke  began  to  appal 
the  heart.  At  length  came  into  view  the  Old  Corporal's 
cart,  or  some  one  of  its  kidney — wheels,  top,  curtains, 
thills,  "  Exposition  ''  placard,  all  as  that  graphic  artist  has 
painted  them — creeping  along  at  the  pace  of  two  miles  the 
hour,  and  horse-destroying  even  at  that  speed.  A  frowsy, 
unbonneted  termagant  held  place  on  the  lower  step,  and 
screamed :  "^  V Exposition!  Venez,  messieurs  et  mesdames  ! 
A  V Exposition!  Cinquante  centimes  settlement !^^  On 
the  front,  supplying  the  necessary  and  no  small  modicum 
of  belaboring,  rode  what  I  now  religiously  believe  to  have 
been  the  weazen-faced  baker ;  and  on  the  seats  were 
ranged  half  a  dozen,  more  or  less,  of  the  capped  and 
bloused  denizens  of  the  Faubourg  St.  Antoine,  their  faces 
half  dirt,  and  the  other  half  eager  expectation  of  the  great 
treat  in  store.  (It  is  worthy  of  note,  if  my  suspicion 
of  the  identity  should  be  correct,  that  monsieur  le  hou- 
langer  had  come  down  a  shade  in  his  anticipated  prices, 
and  that  the  "American  savages"  were  not  plentiful  in 
his  load,  however  tliey  were  going  to  be.) 

"There,"  suggested  the  Governor,  "there  is  a  chance 
to  ride,  now."  To  him  Anna  Maria  indignantly,  and  with 
a  curl  of  her  slightly-retrousse  nose :  "  That  ?  Catch  me 
riding  in  that,  at  an  early  period !"  To  her  the  Gover- 
nor, more  determinedly :  "  Now  I  think,  then,  that  we 
icill  ride  in  that,  or  not  go  at  all !"     To  him  Anna  Maria, 


''PREPARING    FOR    BOARDERSy      57 

energetically:  "Humph!  You  think  so — do  yon?  Then 
Z shall  go  if  I  like,  and  walk  if  I  like,  and  ride  in  any- 
thing I  please,  if  I  like ! "  To  her  the  Governor,  more 
subtly:  "Well,  now,  I  think  that  the  joke  Avould  be  a 
good  one;  but,  of  course,  if  you  are  afraid  to  go  in 
it " 

Whereupon  the  spirits  of  all  the  ancestors  who  could, 
Avould  or  should  have  fought  at  Bunker-hill  or  Brandy- 
wine  (whether  they  did  so  or  not),  blazed  up  in  the  face 
of  Anna  Maria,  pointed  by  a  fierce  ejaculation  :  "  Afraid  ? 
Who  said  that  I  was  afraid?  Here,  arretez  vous,  cocker !'''' 
and  an  imperious  beckon  and  that  shout  arrested  the 
vehicle  and  its  concomitants  in  their  mad  career.  Within 
half  a  minute  thereafter  the  united  efforts  of  the  Governor 
and  the  virago  "  guard  "  hoisted  substantial  Anna  Maria 
up  the  steps  and  into  the  cart,  the  gubernatorial  purse  dis- 
bursed a  franc  (borrowed),  and  the  onward  progress  was 
pleasantly  resumed.  Within  a  second  half-minute  Anna 
Maria's  pronovmced  weight  and  the  unstable  character  of 
the  seat  combined  to  produce  a  fracture  and  downfall  of 
the  latter,  leading  to  Anna  Maria's  achieving  Avhat  is 
kno-wn  to  the  disciples  of  Ward  and  Hamill  as  "  catching 
a  crab,"  the  body  being  temporarily  deposited  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  vehicle,  and  the  pedal  extremities  extended 
airward  in  a  manner  more  edifying  to  others,  and  in- 
structive as  to  the  qualities  of  hosiery,  than  pleasing  to 
the  unintentional  gymnast. 

We  went  on  to  the  Exposition  in  the  dilapidated  rattle- 
trap, however — did  we  not,  Anna  Maria  ? — and  enjoyed 
the  ride  better  than  any  other  during  the  Parisian  cam- 
paign. And  how  we  looked  around,  during  that  some- 
what extended  progress  of  less  than  a  mile  achieved  in 
less  than  an  hour,  pityingly  on  the  poor  wretches  who  had 
only  ordinary  vehicles  at  command,  and  wished  that 
Murray  Hill  and  the  Central  Park  could  catch  a  glimpse 
3* 


58  PARIS    IN   '67. 

of  us,  then  ;  and  dashed  up  to  the  Porte  Rapp  and  disem- 
barked with  an  air  that  kings  and  queens  might  have 
envied,  alighting  at  palace-steps ;  and  were  altogether 
jolly  and  jubilant  when  once  we  had  fairly  taken  posses- 
sion of  one  of  the  "  conveniences  "  especially  prepared  by 
Paris  for  the  "  American  savages  and  other  islanders," 


YI. 

THE  EAGLE'S  BROOD  IN"  EUROPE. 

The  national  eagles  are  numerous ;  and  it  may  be  neces- 
sary to  premise  that  in  speaking  of  the  "  eagle's  brood " 
I  do  not  refer  to  the  progeny  of  either  the  Russian,  Aus- 
trian or  Prussian  birds,  all  sprawled  with  erect  head  and 
dangling  legs,  as  the  farmers  used  to  gibbet  predatory 
crows  and  hen-hawks, — nor  yet  to  the  one  with  folded 
wings,  bearing  an  "  N "  on  his  breast  and  popularly 
supposed  to  be  derived  from  Rome  as  Napoleon  the  Third 
is  from  Julius  Csesar, — but  to  John  Neal's 

"Fierce  gray  bird,  with  a  sharpened  beak 
And  a  blazing  eye  and  an  angry  shriek  " — 

the  Gray  Forest  Eagle  of  the  West,  fit  symbol  of  a  land 
more  boundless  in  extent  than  even  the  flight  of  the  eagle 
itself,  and  of  a  nation  which  alternately  seems  to  possess 
all  the  nobilities  and  all  the  meannesses  of  that  Jovian 
bird — a  bird,  let  it  be  remembered,  which  looks  unflinch- 
ingly at  the  sun  in  its  midday  glory,  finds  no  rock  too 
high  for  its  eyrie  and  no  ether  too  perilous  for  its  wing, 
and — robs  the  poor  fish-hawk  of  the  paltry  spoil  it  is  bear- 
ing homeward  for  supper !  In  short,  that  in  writing  of 
the  "  eagle's  brood "  in  France  and  the  other  countries 
of  Europe,  during  1867,  I  am  alluding  to  America/is 
abroad. 

What  a  "raft"  of  them  there  has  been,  to  be  sure! — 
what  a  representation  of  all  that  is  best,  worst,  and  most 


60  PARIS    IK   '67. 

common-place  in  American  society  !  How  every  eastward- 
bound  steamer  has  been  loaded  with  them,  destined  for  as 
indefinite  a  port  in  the  pleasuring-voyage  as  some  of  the 
old  mercliant-ships  used  to  be  for  "  Cowes  and  a  market  ;" 
plethoric  pocket-booked  and  the  reverse ;  lettered  and 
unlettered ;  fit  and  unfit  for  travel ;  old  and  young ;  sick 
and  well ;  male  and  female ;  misers  and  spendthrifts ;  peo- 
ple with  an  errand  and  people  without  an  errand  ;  objects 
of  pride  and  objects  of  shame,  to  be  met  abroad ;  some 
eager  to  set  foot  among  the  scenes  of  familiar  history, 
and  others  asking  on  the  verge  of  departure :  "  What  was 
the  most  important  things  that  ever  happened  in  England 
and  France  and  a  few  of  them  other  countries — so  that 
a  body  can  know  what  he  is  seein'  ?"  ;  fashionables  going 
to  show  themselves,  and  unfashionables  too  slovenly  to 
take  even  due  thought  for  clean  linen  ;  habitual  sneerers 
going  to  undervalue  everything,  and  habitual  enthusiasts 
to  overrate  everything  ;  radicals  to  spy  out  past  "  rebels  " 
abroad,  and  past  rebels  to  escape  for  a  season  the  fatal 
pressure  of  radicals;  patriots  beanng  with  them  the  whole 
of  a  native  land  in  their  hearts,  and  indifferents  incapable 
of  bearing  the  welfare  of  a  township ;  freemen  familiar 
with  the  ballot  for  half  a  century,  and  freedmen  just  admit- 
ted to  the  exercise  of  the  misunderstood  privilege  ;  actors 
and  tract-society  men  ;  reporters  and  fugitives ;  million- 
aires and  bankrupts;  swindlers  and  their  victims;  mer- 
chants in  the  dull  season  and  lawyers  in  vacation  ;  clergy- 
men on  their  leave,  and  courtesans  on  their  chase ; 
book-makers  and  book-murderers ;  diamonded  dirt-cart- 
men  and  needy  scions  of  "  first  fiimilies  ;"  Madame  to  be 
able  to  boast  of  "  seeing  Europe,"  and  Miss  in  the  faint 
hope  of  finding  a  husband  somewhere  in  the  melee;  all 
these  and  those  thousand  other  classes  and  contradictions 
embraced  in  the  common  phrase :  "  Everybody  and  his 
wife." 


EAGLE'S    BROOD    IN'    EUROPE.  61 

All  Europe  has  been  literally  alive  with  this  "  brood  " 
of  the  American  eagle  ;  and,  let  the  truth  be  told,  all 
Europe  has  been  expecting  them  as  anxiously  as  they 
have  been  anxiously  arriving.  They  have  supplied  no 
small  proportion  of  the  gold  minted  from  discounted 
greenbacks,  by  which  the  "  season  "  has  been  made  "  pro- 
fitable "  to  London  hotel-keepers  and  Parisian  boiitiqmers  ; 
the  verdancy  of  some  of  them  has  made  greener  the  green 
fields  of  Old  England,  the  brightness  of  others  has  added 
a  new  flash  to  the  glaciers  of  Switzerland.  I  have  seen 
them  button-holing  a  chance-met  friend  in  the  stable- 
yard  of  the  Red  Horse  at  Stratford-on-Avon,  and  inquir- 
ing, confidentially :  "  Who  teas  Skakspeare,  that  they 
talk  so  much  about,  and  what  did  he  do  ? — tell  a  fellow, 
won't  you?"  I  have  caught  them  driving  a  company  of 
literal  Englishmen  wild  with  merry  exaggerative  "  chaff  " 
that  would  not  have  puzzled  a  knot  of  American  school- 
boys, and  setting  French  academicians  rampant  with  bril- 
liantly-nonsensical new  propositions  in  science  and  phil- 
osophy, I  have  seen  the  beauty  of  American  girls  bowing 
whole  assemblages  as  if  in  the  presence  of  a  new  and  more 
glorious  human  race  ;  and  I  have  seen  the  miserable  ignor- 
ances, affectations  and  false  modesties  of  would-be  Ameri- 
can ladies  awakening  well-bred  sneers  at  the  country  that 
could  give  birth  to  such  travesties  on  mind  and  manners, 
I  have  seen  them  climbing  the  Kliigi  on  foot,  when  others 
rode ;  and  dragged  about  in  carriages  when  all  others 
walked  ;  and  haggling  with  a  hotel-keeper  over  the  price 
of  a  bougie  that  had  not  been  burned ;  and  astounding 
even  reckless  Baden-Baden  with  the  flash  of  their  uncon- 
sidered handfuls  of  gambling  gold.  I  have  seen,  in  short, 
what  might  have  astonished  the  First  Napoleon,  who 
prophesied  that  Europe  would,  at  an  early  day,  become 
either  "  republican  or  Cossack  " — I  have  seen  it  literally 
American  I 


62  PARIS    1 11    '67. 

But  of  course,  amid  all  the  outside  attractions  and  excur- 
sions, the  great  gathering-place  of  the  eagle's  brood,  as  of 
all  the  rest  of  the  world,  has  been  Paris,  Where  have 
they  not  been  visible,  there?  What  one  of  the  royal 
receptions  has  not  been  watched  by  them  with  that  double 
eagerness  proper  for  republicans  ? — which  one  of  the 
worst  cajicam- danced  at  Mabille  or  the  Chateau  des  Fleurs 
has  not  been  beheld  by  them  with  that  horrified  admira- 
tion proper  for  people  of  a  nation  which  never  tolerates 
such  exhibitions  ?  What  grand-opera  night  has  been 
deficient  in  the  flash  of  American  diamonds,  whether  the 
brow  or  bosom  on  which  they  glowed  was  lovely  or  the 
reverse  ?  What  midnight  promenade  on  the  brilliant  Bou- 
levard has  failed  to  reveal  the  natty  rig  of  the  Bostonian, 
the  jaunty  swagger  of  the  New  Yorker,  the  trim  whisker 
of  the  Philadelphian,  the  short  trousers  and  thin  cheeks  of 
the  speculative  country  Yankee,  the  broad- bottomed  coat 
and  astonishing  antiquated  hat  of  the  man  from  "  only  a 
hundred  miles  west  of  Chicawgo  ?"  And  where  and  when, 
outside  the  cafe,  along  the  walks  of  the  Avenue  des 
Champs  Elysees,  or  in  the  cour  cVhonneur  of  the  Grand 
Hotel,  has  that  spectacle  so  dear  to  all  Americans  been 
missing — a  few  tilted  chairs  and  the  pro^Dcr  quantity  of 
boot-soles  elevated  for  exhibition  ? 

Which  of  the  great  hotels  has  not  found  the  more  liberal- 
handed  of  them  among  its  best  customers  ?  and  at  what 
maison  meublee  have  they  not  at  first  threatened  madness 
to  Madame  the  proprietress,  and  afterwards  supplied-  con- 
tent to  all  ?  What  shopkeeper  of  the  Boulevards  or  the 
Palais  Royal  has  not  aided  in  depleting  their  pockets  ? 
What  restaurant  keeper  has  failed  to  hear  their  French  of 
all  varieties,  to  supply  them  with  English  of  correspond- 
ing excellence,  and  to  serve  them  eventually  what  he 
pleased  at  his  own  prices  ?  Into  what  corner  of  the  Expo- 
sition have  they  not  peeped,  at  once  proud  and  ashamed 


EAGLE'S    BROOD    IN    EUROPE.        63 

of  their  ovm.  country  and  its  department,  and  diligently 
studying  what  other  countries  could  teach,  while  loudly 
boasting  that  their  own  was  incapable  of  improvement  ? 
Through  what  gallery  of  Versailles  or  the  Louvre  have 
they  not  minced  or  stridden,  some  of  them  really  observ- 
ing the  pictures  and  statuary,  and  the  balance  believing 
that  they  did  so  ?  Up  what  monument  have  they  not 
climbed,  to  be  able  to  say  that  they  "  had  the  view  from 
such  and  such  a  point,"  if  for  no  higher  (but  how  could 
there  have  been  a  "  higher  ?")  ambition  ? 

Have  they  not  eaten  at  the  American  Restaurant  of  the 
Exposition? — drank  at  the  American  Bar  ? — inscribed  their 
names  at  the  American  Registry  ? — drawn  money  and  read 
American  newspapers  at  the  American  Bankers'  ? 

"Verily,  not  to  carry  out  this  line  of  inquiry  to  any 
greater  tediousness,  the  brood  of  the  American  eagle  have 
"seen  Paris"  during  the  summer  of  '67,  and  Paris  and  all 
Europe  have  seen  them.  Shall  not  a  few  words  follow  of 
their  peculiarities  as  a  people  abroad,  and  the  estimation 
in  which  they  have  been  held,  especially  during  this  mem- 
orable summer  ? 

At  Paris,  and  measurably  over  Europe,  this  year,  Amer- 
icans have  gratified  nearly  as  much  curiosity  as  they  have 
manifested.  Never  before,  so  much  as  since  the  rebellion, 
have  America,  American  events,  and  the  American  people, 
been  so  much  in  the  whole  world's  mouths  and  minds. 
The  rebellion,  with  its  promise  of  our  destruction — our 
astounding  innovations  in  engines  of  warfare,  our  sudden 
fleets  by  the  hundred  and  armies  by  the  million — our  emer- 
gence from  the  great  struggle,  not  only  victorious  but 
apparently  stronger  than  ever,  and  walking  without  evi- 
dent staggering  under  a  financial  load  capable  of  crushing 
to  the  earth  any  nation  on  the  globe  except  one  or  possibly 
two — our  sudden  abolition  of  slavery,  for  our  own  pur- 
poses, when  we  had  adhered  to  it  in  defiance  of  the  opia- 


64  PARIS    I2T   '67. 

ion  of  a  railing  world — our  late  great  Western  develop- 
ments of  railroad  enterprise — our  rivers  flowing  with  oil, 
following  our  mountains  teeming  with  gold  and  silver — 
our  audacious  crossings  of  the  Atlantic  in  river-yachts 
and  cock-boats — all  these  have  wrought  together  to  awaken 
the  world's  curiosity  to  an  extent  unparalleled  and  almost 
undreamed  of  even  by  ourselves.  And,  at  the  great  Paris 
gathering  and  in  those  portions  of  Europe  more  exten- 
sively this  year  than  ever  before  visited  by  Americans,  it 
is  but  fair  to  say  that  the  eagle's  brood  have  been  stared 
at  as  much  as  they  have  stared — that  the  men  who  could 
do  all  these  things  at  once  have  been  quite  as  great  objects 
of  curiosity  as  any  scenes  or  any  people  among  which  they 
have  moved. 

Americans,  too,  have  been  holding  the  world's  respect, 
this  year,  as  never  before.  Not — as  my  first  radical  friend 
may  exclaim  with  a  triumphant  "  Aha !" — on  account  of 
the  moral  eiFect  of  emancipation ;  for  I  have  no  doubt  that 
the  lamented  Abraham  Lincoln  might  have  affixed  his  name 
to  a  document  enslaving  a  new  race  instead  of  freeing 
one,  and  had  the  operation  added  to  the  power  of  the 
nation,  the  effect  upon  the  world  at  large  would  have  been 
quite  as  decided.  But  that,  first,  the  personal  push  and 
energy,  and,  second,  the  material  power  of  the  American 
people,  have  been  lately  shown  in  an  imwonted  degree  in 
the  points  before  mentioned  and  in  many  others; — and 
that  Europe  is  the  continent,  above  all  others,  where 
power  is  deferred  to  and  success  treated  with  unbounded 
respect.  The  Euroi)eans  understand,  now,  that  we  can 
raise  armies,  erect  navies,  and  crush  rebellions,  to  an  ex- 
tent and  with  a  rapidity  fabulous  elsewhere ;  they  un- 
derstand that  our  mineral  resources  approach  if  they  do 
not  exceed  those  of  all  the  rest  of  the  globe  put  together ; 
they  believe  (whether  truly  or  not)  that  we  have  the  purse 
of  Fortunatus  hidden  away  somewhere,  nationally,  and 


EAGLE'S    BROOD    7^V    EUROPE.        65 

are  thus  capable  of  sheltering  all  the  world's  outcasts, 
enriching  all  the  world's  shopkeepers,  girdling  all  the  world 
with  the  chains  and  bonds  of  our  commercial  enterprise  ; 
they  see  in  us  one  of  the  Great  Powers  of  the  earth,  in  the 
ordinary  acceptation  of  the  term,  and  begin  to  mark  our  ex- 
ceptional position  as  the  undisputed  arbiters  of  the  destinies 
of  one  whole  continent ;  and  these  incitements  to  respect, 
if  no  others  existed,  would  be  quite  sufficient  to  induce  that 
feeling,  not  to  say  compel  it. 

But  candor  obliges  the  statement  that  to  one  of  the 
features  named  in  the  previous  paragraph,  we  have  owed 
more  of  the  almost  awe-struck  temporary  admiration  of 
the  European  world,  than  to  almost  any  other  if  not  to 
all  the  others  combined.  I  refer  to  the  enterprise  shown, 
the  engineering  audacity  manifested,  and  the  progress 
achieved,  in  that  crowning  venture  of  an  adventurous  age, 
the  great  Pacific  Railroad.  To  hear  of  the  two  great 
agencies,  the  Central  Pacific  and  the  Union  Pacific  Com- 
panies, marching  hand  in  hand  though  far  apart,  and  tramp- 
ing steadily  onward  to  a  success  as  stupendous  as  assured 
— to  hear  of  the  Central  crossing  eastward  the  whole  gold 
country  of  California,  and  climbing  the  wild  Sierra  Nevada 
to  its  very  top,  with  almost  the  sjieed  that  would  once 
have  been  thought  necessary  to  lay  a  mule-track — to  hear 
of  the  Union  marching  westward  across  the  plains  and 
approaching  the  foot  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  its  trains 
moving  cities  and  its  operators  armies — to  hear  of  a  gov- 
ernment assisting  both  enterprises  by  scores  of  millions 
and  yet  allowing  private  capitalists  to  take  liens  in  advance 
of  itself,  so  assured  that  any  lien  upon  such  roads  must  be 
a  safe  one — to  hear  of  uncompleted  portions  of  such  roads 
paying  interest  on  three  or  four  times  the  investment,  nine 
per  cent,  on  bonds,  and  even  favorite  "  Governments"  sold 
out  to  secure  them — these  things  have  been  simply  astound- 
ing to  short-railway  and  three-per-cent.  interest  Europeans  ; 


66  PARIS   IN   '67. 

it  has  been  to  inquire  of  the  truth  of  these  marvelous 
statements  that  more  Americans  have  been  button-holed 
in  Europe  during  1867,  than  for  any  other  purpose; 
and  it  has  been  to  the  nation  capable,  at  the  very  close  of 
a  great  war,  of  thus  proving  its  hold  upon  the  centre  as 
well  as  the  borders  of  a  continent,  and  laying  substantial 
railways  at  the  rate  of  miles  per  day — it  has  been  to  a 
nation  so  shown  abroad,  that  some  of  the  very  highest 
honors  of  the  season  liave  naturally  accrued. 

Again,  Americans  have  been  keeping  up  the  reputation, 
this  year,  of  spending  more  money  when  traveling,  than 
the  people  of  any  other  nation  on  the  globe.  To  spend 
money  is  to  have  money,  at  least  among  superficial  think- 
ers— to  be  extravagant  is  to  be  rich — to  belong  to  a 
nation  of  rich  men  is  to  belong  to  one  of  great  power — to 
belong  to  a  powerful  nation  is  to  command  respect  uni- 
versally. I  do  not  insist  upon  this  as  a  legitimate  ground 
of  respect :  some  of  the  worst  fools  have  been  spending  the 
most  money.  But  the  fact  remains  that  while  this  national 
lavish  personal  expenditure  goes  on,  the  flunkey  world 
(and  much  of  Europe  is  flunkey)  will  scarcely  stop  to  in- 
quire whether  the  means  for  such  an  expenditure  have 
been  inherited,  earned,  or  swindled  ;  couriers  and  valets 
will  lie  in  wait,  hotels  will  be  kept  open,  carriages  will 
stand,  flags  will  wave,  as  they  have  done  this  season,  more 
than  half  for  American  patronage.  This  whole  reckless- 
ness of  money  is  a  national  vice  as  well  as  a  national  folly ; 
but  as  each  one  of  us  catches  a  reflection  from  the  last 
flash  of  the  departing  dollar,  why  should  the  country  com- 
plain ? 

Then,  and  as  the  last  ingredient  in  this  respect,  neces- 
sary to  be  noticed  here,  we  have  astounded  all  the  world 
by  our  success  at  the  Exposition  and  compelled  recogni- 
tion in  that  success.  Of  the  special  articles  on  exhibition, 
covering  us  wdth  this  legitimate  honor,  other  mention  will 


EAGLE'S    BROOD    IN'    EUROPE.         67 

be  made  in  due  place :  here  only  the  general  fact  demands 
note.  We  had  a  cramped  space,  few  articles,  a  mean-look- 
ing department — to  the  superficial  eye,  a  department  mean 
beyond  comparison,  in  the  midst  of  oriental  splendor  in 
decoration,  and  the  profusion  of  articles  contributed  by 
countries  of  nearer  location.  We  have  taken  more  grand 
prizes  than  any  nation  on  the  globe  except  two — more 
grand  prizes  per  cent  of  articles  exhibited,  than  any  other 
nation  ever  took  at  any  exhibition.  We  have  ruled  and 
conquered  in  the  practical,  throughout — in  an  instance  or 
two,  hereafter  to  be  noted,  in  the  so-called  higher  depart- 
ment of  the  ornamental.  This — the  awards  declared  so 
early  in  the  season  as  the  first  of  July — ^has  capped  and 
crowned  the  respect  paid  to  the  eagle's  brood — a  brood  by 
no  means  slow  to  perceive  when  they  are  honored  or  when 
they  ought  to  he  ! 

In  one  respect  America  has  signally  failed,  in  Europe  and 
during  the  summer.  With  a  few  exceptions  (and  I  hope 
that  every  American  lady  who  chances  to  be  or  have  been 
abroad  will  consider  herself  one  of  them)  we  have  not 
shown,  this  year,  a  fair  representation  of  our  female  beauty. 
There  have  been  too  many  dowagers,  too  many  dowdy 
parvenues,  too  many  acidulous  spinsters,  too  few  of  those 
best  tyjies  of  American  girlhood  and  American  wifehood 
who  had  before  won  us  the  well-deserved  name  of  produc- 
ing the  handsomest  and  most  lovely  race  of  women  on  the 
globe.  Far  too  many  of  the  best  whom  we  have  sent,  have 
been  habitually  overdressed — overdressed  on  shipboard, 
in  railway  carriages,  on  promenade,  everywhere  except  at 
great  festivals,  where  excess  in  any  line  was  almost  impos- 
sible. Taken  as  a  whole,  the  French  Exposition,  a  triumph 
for  American  manufacturers,  has  scarcely  raised  their  repu- 
tation for  the  one  production  dwarfing  all  others  in  its 
appeal  to  the  eye  and  the  heart.  The  fault,  I  take  it,  does  not 
lie  in  any  deterioration  at  home,  or  in  any  unwillingness  of 


68  PARIS    IN    '67. 

our  loveliest  to  have  tempted  the  Atlantic  waves,  would 
Papa  but  have  opened  his  purse-strings  wide  enough,  or 
Charles  not  been  too  jealous  or  too  selfish  to  take  his  pretty 
wife,  or  Adolphus  not  been  too  slow  in  arranging  for  those 
"  bridal  favors." 

Three  or  four  additional  features  remain  to  be  noticed. 
The  females  of  the  brood  have  been  especially  reckless  in 
their  "  shoppings  "  along  the  Boulevards  and  around  the 
Palais  Royal ;  and  they  have  insisted  upon  Mabille  and 
Asnieres  with  an  urgency  showing  that  we  are  "progress- 
ing." All,  male  and  female,  with  few  and  notable  excep- 
tions, have  gabbled  such  atrocious  French,  as  to  paralyze 
their  victims  with  horror ;  while  in  nine  instances  out  of 
ten  they  could  have  found  enough  English  on  the  other 
side,  however  correspondingly  atrocious,  to  save  self-re- 
spect, I  think  that  beyond  this,  the  two  strongest  natural 
characteristics  shown  by  the  eagle's  brood  in  Europe  have 
been  the  bewilderment  of  the  females  as  to  the  best  ar- 
rangement of  their  chirjnons,  in  the  midst  of  a  variety 
ranging  from  a  knob  at  the  back  of  the  neck  to  a  knot  at 
the  exact  center  of  the  top-head, — and  the  agonizing  ef- 
forts of  the  males  to  avoid  being  imposed  upon  with  horse- 
beef,  in  lands  where  they  are  so  shameless  as  to  announce 
"  hors  cP  oeuvres  "  on  their  bills-of-fare ! 


YII. 

THE  CAKNIVAL  OF  CROWDED  HEADS. 

Notable  as  has  been  the  Paris  Exposition  in  many  other 
regards,  its  splendor  as  a  "  show  "  and  its  power  of  attract- 
ing the  masses  would  both  have  been  found  sadly  deficient 
in  comparison,  but  for  the  concourse  of  Eraperors,  Kings, 
Oriental  Sultans,  Pachas,  Beys,  and  other  governing  pow- 
ers, and  the  scions  of  governing  houses,  for  so  many  weeks 
supplying  Parisians  and  their  visitors  with  a  new  sensation 
in  eyesight,  almost  every  day,  and  presenting  a  suspicion, 
for  the  time,  that  there  had  been  a  general  "  throne-deliv- 
ery," and  that  all  the  fugitive  monarchs  had  fled  to  Paris 
as  their  common  refuge.  Alas,  no ! — the  second  glance 
and  the  second  thought  showed  that  no  such  series  of  royal 
calamities  had  overflowed  France  with  the  kingly  element. 
They  brought  with  them  too  many  evidences  of  their  state, 
and  they  were  too  pronouncedly  received,  for  the  suspicion 
to  linger  more  than  a  moment  that  they  were  monarchs 
discrowned !  Not  even  France,  now-a-days,  and  in  spite 
of  the  example  set  by  Louis  in  the  reception  and  mainte- 
nance of  fugitive  English  James  the  Second  at  St.  Ger- 
main— ^not  even  France,  now-a-days,  can  afibrd  to  set  up 
mimic  courts  for  the  royal  unfortunates ;  else  would  she 
have  found  plenty  of  employment  for  courtesy  and  cash, 
following  the  events  of  the  first  Italian  war,  and  again 
after  Sadowa. 

No ! — these  all,  in  contradistinction,  were  monarchs  who 
had  not  yet  lost  their  crowns,  or  budding  monarchs  who 


70  PARIS    IN    '67. 

had  not  yet  received  the  banWes  in  waiting.  And  not 
even  many  of  the  Parisians,  it  is  probable,  have  taken  the 
pains  to  make  such  a  list  of  the  sovereigns  and  scions  of 
sovereignty  who  have  pa<;sed  before  them  in  review,  that 
they  could  designate  either  their  names  or  succession.  As, 
indeed,  how  could  they,  when  one  princely  celebrity  after 
another  came  so  rapidly,  and  moved  about  so  ceaselessly, 
that  one  graphic  writer  designated  Paris  as  "  a  parterre  of 
kings,  and  of  half  and  quarter  kings,"  with  "  the  people 
at  the  Tuileries  and  the  Etat-Major — that  is  to  say,  the  mas- 
ters of  ceremonies  and  officers  in  command  of  the  city — 
not  knowing  whether  they  stand  on  their  heads  or  their 
heels,"  "  the  town  barricaded  as  in  time  of  revolution"  (to 
becure  uninterrupted  passage  to  the  royal  guests),  "  and 
the  monarch s  scattered  about  town  in  the  various  palaces, 
in  so  promiscuous  a  manner  as  almost  to  suggest  the  idea 
that  they  want  to  shut  off  the  circulation  ;"  while  of  the 
propensity  to  "  do  "  them,  pedally  and  visually,  another 
pleasantly  summed  the  whole  matter  in  saying  that:  "The 
presence  of  so  many  sovereigns  or  to-be  sovereigns  in 
Paris,  has  literally  turned  the  heads  of  a  large  class  of  peo- 
ple, who  station  themselves  all  day  long  at  the  doors  of  the 
Exhibition,  or  on  certain  corners  of  the  streets,  and  refuse 
to  be  comforted  till  they  have  seen  a  dozen  crowned  heads. 
The  Exhibition  is  the  great  trap  to  catch  the  unfortunate 
monarchs  in,  and  people  go  there  and  hunt  through  its 
lab}Tinthine  windings  just  as  hunters  do  the  forests  after 
game  ;  and  then  they  come  home,  radiant  and  happy,  and 
boast  of  having  seen  their  half-a-dozen,  just  as  an  Indian 
warrior  would  boast  of  his  half-a-dozen  scalps,  or  a  hun- 
ter of  his  pairs  of  game.  None  of  the  innocent  weak- 
nesses of  poor  human  nature  are  so  seductive  as  flunkey- 
ism." 

For  sovereigns  to   visit  Paris,   without  the  special  in- 
citement of  an  International  Exposition,  is  not  quite  the 


CARNIVAL     OF    CROWNED    HEADS.     71 

rarity,  however,  which  the  same  event  would  present  in 
any  other  capital  than  the  English — Paris  heing  consider- 
ed, even  more  than  London,  one  of  the  "  world's  sights  " 
that  cannot  be  ignored  or  neglected;  and  no  small  number 
of  ci'owned  heads  have  nodded  beside  the  Seine  during  the 
past  half-centnry — the  list  of  whom,  here,  would  be  only 
wearisome  if  attainable.  Sometimes,  too,  they  have  come 
as  little  else  than  captives,  long  since  the  day  when  Fran- 
cis the  First  supplied  the  opposite  vicissitude  to  Charles 
the  Fifth  after  Pavia,  as  was  the  case  with  that  temporo- 
spiritual  sovereign,  Pope  Pius  the  Seventh,  ostensibly  a 
guest  of  the  First  Napoleon,  but  really  a  prisoner.  Then 
they  have  come  as  conquerors,  as  Avhen  the  Allied 
Sovereigns  held  high  revel  in  the  forfeit  capital  of  Napo- 
leon, after  ^Yaterloo,  in  revenge  for  the  humiliation  to 
which  he  had  subjected  them  when  both  Alexander  of 
Russia  and  Francis  of  Austria  went  to  him  as  suppliants, 
the  one  personally  and  the  other  by  deputy,  on  the  night 
following  Austeiiitz. 

The  visit  of  Queen  Victoria  and  Prince  Albert  to  the 
Emperor  at  Paris,  and  their  entertainment  there,  is,  of 
course,  well-remembered,  as  also  the  return  visit  of  the 
Emperor  to  the  queen  at  Windsor  ;  and  it  is  to  note  a  fea- 
ture originating  in  true  courtesy,  though  almost  laughably 
overstrained,  common  to  that  date  and  the  present,  that 
the  double  event  is  here  alluded  to.  When  Napoleon  III. 
visited  Windsor,  the  name  of  "  Waterloo  Chamber  "  was 
taken  down  from  above  the  door  of  that  celebrated  apart- 
ment in  Windsor  Castle,  that  the  eyes  of  the  imperial 
guest  might  not  be  pained  by  resting  upon  the  objection- 
able word  ;  and  the  Emperor,  this  year,  gave  special  orders 
that  no  soldier  wearing  the  Crimean  medal  should  be 
placed  on  guard  at  or  around  the  palace  occupied  by  the 
Czar,  or  at  any  point  where  he  could  be  mortified  by  that 
similar  reminder  of  defeat !     Just  as  if  Napoleon  long  for- 


72  PARIS    IN    '&1 . 

got  Waterloo  when  on  English  soil,  or  Alexander  Sebas- 
topol  when  on  French,  from  the  lack  of  verbal  or  tangible 
reminders ! 

It  may  be  a  matter  of  interest  to  others  than  Parisians, 
as  it  is  certainly  part  of  tlie  record  of  the  Exposition,  to 
recall  who  really  were  the  imperial,  royal,  and  royally- 
expectant  personages  sojourning  in  Paris  for  a  longer  or 
briefer  period  during  the  summer  of  1867  ;  and  that  want 
of  dtsposition  to  run  after  notable  2Jeople,  which  led  me, 
not  long  ago,  to  make  musical  choice  between  five  opening 
minutes  of  the  Concert  in  the  English  Garden  at  Geneva, 
or  a  near  view  of  the  arriving  King  and  Queen  of  Portu- 
gal, just  then  coming  to  my  hotel — this,  and  the  want  of 
familiarity  with  royal  precedence  which  flows  from  it, 
must  be  my  excuse  if  I  do  not  happen  to  place  them  pre- 
cisely as  Monsieur  the  Grand  Chamberlain  would  do  in 
arranging  their  seats  at  table. 

The  list  seems  to  have  comprised  nearly  sixty  members 
of  blood  imperial  or  royal,  grouped  as  follows  :  Hussian — 
the  Czar,  Hereditary  Grand  Duke,  Grand  Duke  Constan- 
tine.  Grand  Duchess  Mary  (sister  of  the  Czar) ;  English — 
Prince  of  Wales,  Duke  of  Edinburgh,  Prince  Arthur, 
Princess  Alice  (Princess  Louis  of  Hesse) ;  Prussian — 
King  and  Queen  of  Prussia,  Crown  Prince  and  Princess 
Royal,  Prince  Albert,  Prince  and  Princess  Charles  ;  JBel- 
gian — King  and  Queen  of  Belgium,  Count  and  Countess 
of  Flanders ;  Italian — Prince  Humbert,  Duke  and  Duchess 
d'Aosta ;  Sioedish — King  of  Sweden,  Prince  Oscar  ; 
JBavarian — Kings  Louis  I.  and  IL,  Prince  and  Princess 
Adalberg ;  JETollandische — Prince  of  Orange  ;  Saxon — 
Prince  and  Princess  Royal  of  Saxony,  Duke  and  Duchess 
of  Saxony  ;  Portuguese — King  and  Queen  of  Portugal, 
Duke  de  Coimbre  ;  Turkish — Sultan,  his  son,  brother,  and 
the  Hereditary  Prince  of  Turkey ;  Grecian — King  of 
Greece  j  Egyptian — Viceroy  (now  king) ;  Wurtemburgian 


VARNIVAL     OP    CROWiTED    HEADS.    73 

»— King  of  Wurtemburg,  Duke  William,  Count  de  \Yur- 
temburg ;  German — Duke  of  Leuchtenberg,  Princess 
Eugenie  of  Leuchtenberg,  Grand  Duke  of  Saxe-Weimar, 
Duke  of  Saxe-Weimar,  Duke  of  Mechlenburg-Strelitz, 
Prince  of  Saxe-Coburg-Gotha,  three  Princes  of  Oldenberg, 
Grand  Duke  and  Grand  Duchess  of  Baden,  Prince  of  Hohen- 
zollern,  and  his  son,  Prince  Leopold,  Grand  Duke  of  Mech- 
lenberg-Schwerin,  Prince  of  Reuss;  Tunisian — the  Bey  of 
Tunis  ;  Japanese — Brother  of  the  Tycoon.  Of  this  number 
there  are  two  emperors  (the  Czar  and  Sultan),  nine  kings 
(including  the  new  king  of  Egypt),  nine  heirs-presump- 
tive to  royal  power,  one  oriental  sovereign  below  kingly 
power  (the  Bey  of  Tunis),  three  queens,  and  a  dozen  prin- 
cesses— certainly  a  number  and  variety  unparalleled  in  the 
annals  of  regal  hospitality  for  a  single  year,  and  unlikely 
soon  to  be  duplicated  by  any  single  festivity. 

There  was  probably  more  royalty  and  quasi-royalty 
present  at  Paris,  during  the  season  (especially  that  of  the 
nearer  and  less  notable  German  type),  than  .either  the 
Emperor  or  his  most  enthusiastic  chamberlain  had  antici- 
pated ;  and  yet  there  were  many  absences  of  those  who 
had  been  more  or  less  definitely  expected,  and  whose  pres- 
ence would  have  added  materially  to  the  perfection  of  the 
concourse  and  the  eclat  of  the  great  occasion.  A  few  of 
these,  and  the  reasons  for  their  absence,  may  be  worth  a 
paragraph  each. 

1st.  His  Holiness  the  Pope.  Slightly  expected  at  one 
time  or  another  during  the  season.  Reasons  for  declining  : 
First,  the  grand  convocation  of  bishops  from  all  the  world,, 
and  great  festival  of  the  church  held  at  St.  Peter's,  on  Sat- 
urday, the  29th  of  June.  Second,  some  doubt  whether,  if 
he  set  foot  in  France,  he  would  not  be  called  upon  to  con- 
summate the  long-deferred  crowning  of  the  emperor,  and 
thus  enrage  all  his  supporting  monarchs  of  the  "right 
divine." 

4 


74  PARIS    IN    '67. 

2d.  Queen  Victoria  of  England.  Ardently  expected 
and  desired  at  the  time  of  the  Czar's  visit.  Sent  her  re- 
grets, and  declined  to  come  in  state,  on  the  groimd  of  her 
non-participation  in  public  ceremonials  ;  but  held  out  the 
hope  that  she  might  possibly  visit  Paris  incognito.  Sur- 
mised that  she  would  come  incognito,  not  only  to  oblige 
the  Emperor,  but  to  look  a  little  after  the  Prince  of  Wales, 
vehose  "  goings  on,"  in  the  way  of  saying  soft  things  to 
countesses,  and  going  to  Chantilly  races  on  Sunday,  were 
alleged  to  be  terrible.  Failed  to  come  at  all,  however — 
possibly  detained  by  the  Reform  Bill,  the  late  session  of 
Parliament,  and  the  publication  of  her  memoirs  of  the 
"  Early  Days  of  the  Prince  Consort." 

3d.  President  Andrew  Johnson^  of  the  Waited  States. 
Very  much  desired,  on  the  double  ground  of  his  being  a 
"  Republican  king  "  and  the  worst  badgered  man  living ; 
but  scarcely  expected.  Reasons  for  remaining  at  home  : 
First,  no  expressed  desire  whatever  to  visit  Paris.  Second, 
precisely  so  many  conglomerate  reasons  as  represented  by 
the  Congressional  Districts. 

4th.  T/ie  Shah  of  Persia.  Fully  expected  at  about  the 
time  of  the  Sultan's  visit.  Rumored  reasons  for  declining : 
domestic  political  troubles  of  a  character  rendering  it  likely 
that  if  he  left  Persia,  he  would  not  enter  it  again  except 
dethroned  and  shorter  by  a  head. 

5th,  The  Emperor  of  Austria.  Among  the  most  ar- 
dently desired  and  fully  expected,  in  the  early  days  of  the 
Exposition;  afterwards  not  expected  at  all.  Detaining 
causes :  at  first,  the  preparations  for  and  crowning  as  King 
of  Hungary,  which  took  place  at  Pesth  on  the  same  day 
with  the  grand  ball  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  Saturday,  June 
8th.  Afterward  the  melancholy  fate  of  his  brother  Maxi- 
milian, in  Mexico,  and  the  mourning  and  depression  inci- 
dent to  that  event.* 

6th.   The  King  of  Italy.     Desired  and  hoped  for  by 

•  Finally  reached  Paris,  however,  and  was  imperially  entertained,  in  October. 


CARNIVAL     OF    CROWNED    HEADS.    75 

every  lover  of  gallant  men  ;  but  perhaps  a  trifle  afiaid  of 
meeting  Austria  and  getting  into  a  "complication"  Avith 
liim,  and  engaged  at  home  in  watching  the  Roman  reac- 
tionists on  one  side,  and  the  "  Party  of  Action"  on  the 
other. 

7th.  The  Emperor  of  China.  Not  much  expected, 
though  much  desired  by  the  sudden  admirers  of  oriental- 
ism in  every  shape,  who  thought  that  he  would  at  least  come 
to  "tea"  at  the  Tuileries.  Keason  for  declining,  humor- 
ously said  to  have  been  "  the  discovery  of  a  hole  in  the 
Chinese  wall,  that  needed  mending,"  and  "  his  early  age 
of  only  twelve  years,  which  made  him  too  brittle  a  piece 
of  '  China '  to  bear  such  long  transportation." 

8th.  Queen  Isabella  of  Spain.  Certainly  expected  at 
one  time.  Kept  at  home  by  jealousy  of  the  Empress,  who 
was  handsomer  than  she,  and  had  once  been  her  subject ; 
little  domestic  events  not  necessary  to  enlarge  upon ;  and 
General  Prim. 

9th.  TJie  King  of  DenmarJc.  Not  sei-iously  expected, 
and  detained  by  the  fact  that  there  might  be  "  too  much 
Prussia "  at  Paris,  and  he  would  have  nothing  whatever 
left  of  his  little  when  he  returned. 

10th.  His  sahle  Majesty  of  Dahomey.  Very  much  de- 
sired by  the  Exeter  Hall  people  and  the  American  rad- 
icals. Supposed  to  be  detained  by  the  dullness  of  his 
executioners'  knives,  rendering  it  impossible  to  get  his 
aimual  forty  thousand  beheaded  and  chopped  up  iu  time. 

11th.  The  King  of  the  Mosquitos.  Looked  for  "uith 
eagerness,  but  kept  at  home  by  a  temporary  deficiency  in 
broad-cloth,  of  no  consequence  there^  but  likely  to  be 
awkward  at  Paris. 

12th.  Brigham  Yoxing^  Sovereig?i  of  Utah.  Positively 
promised  at  one  time ;  but  departure  from  Salt  Lake  City 
rendered  impossible  by  the  arrival  of  several  new  emigrants 
with  handsome  wives,  all  of  whom  required  to  be  "added." 


76  PARIS    IN    '67. 

Sent  one  of  his  sons,  however,  who  unaccountably  failed 
to  be  recognized  among  the  princes. 

13th.  Juar,ez^  Dictator  {called  I*resident)  of  3fexico. 
Very  anxiously  expected,  accompanied  by  Lopez,  Chevalier 
de  la  Legion  d'' IIonnexu\  but  detained  by  the  necessity  of 
killing  and  salting  away  enough  of  the  Imperialists  for  a 
year's  provisions. 

14th.  Kinrj  Theodore  of  Abyssinia.  Specially  invited, 
on  English  account,  but  without  the  tender  of  the  royal 
alliance  which  his  Majesty  had  so  long  coveted.  Conse- 
quent sullen  shutting  of  himself  up,  which  may  need  an 
"  expedition  "  to  overcome. 

15tli  (and  the  last,  so  far  as  remembered).  The  King 
of  the   Cannibal  Islands. 

Of  course,  the  arrival  of  the  Czar  of  Russia,  and  his  brief 
stay  in  Paris,  formed  the  crowning  event  of  the  season;  as 
the  mad  attempt  upon  his  life  by  the  Pole  Bergouski,  when 
returning  from  the  grand  review  at  Longcharaps,  on  the 
6th  of  June,  supplied  the  one  regret  which  marred  the 
whole  succession.  "  Tommy,"  who  was  present  at  all  the 
out-door  events  of  the  Czar's  reception,  says  of  the  arrival, 
that  "  all  the  troops  in  Paris  were  at  the  Northern  Rail- 
way station  and  in  the  Place  du  Carrousel ;  all  the  people 
of  Paris  were  in  the  streets ;  all  the  Russian  flags  that 
could  be  bought,  made,  or  stolen,  were  on  the  houses ;  and 
yet  Nappy  went  to  the  station  after  the  t'other  big-wig, 
with  not  much  more  state  than  the  Banker  would  have 
shown  if  he  had  been  coming  down  to  the  Harlem  rail- 
road station  after  me — with  only  a  hundred  or  two  of 
guards  fluttering  their  lance-pennons;  and  it  was  worth 
something  to  see  the  two  shaking  hands  when  they  met, 
like  jolly  old  codgers  that  hadn't  a  crown  between  them, 
let  alone  a  crown  apiece!"  Tommy  records,  too,  Avith 
something  like  a  chuckle  at  the  weaknesses  of  gray-headed 
people  who  call  others  "  youngsters,"  that  "  the  Russian 


CARNIVAL     OF    OR  OWNED    HEADS.     77 

Bear  went  to  the  theater  the  very  first  night — didn't  he, 
thougli ! — just  as  if  he  had  come  all  the  way  from  Petero- 
polis  to  see  pretty  Mile.  Schneider,  and  do  the  '  Grande 
Duchesse  de  Gerolstein.'"  A  little  more  at  length,  but 
indispensable,  is  the  brief  account  which  he  supplies  of  the 
grand  review  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  and  the  attempted 
regicide : — 

"  Of  course  you  know  where  the  review  took  place,  when 
they  say  that  it  was  in  the  '  Bois.'  Where  else  could  it  be 
than  on  the  course  at  Longchamps  ? — quite  as  well  fitted 
for  reviewing,  it  seems  to  me,  as  for  horse-racing.  It 
was  a  gay  old  show,  and  I  didn't  wonder  that  my  friend 
Nappy's  eyes — very  dull  ones  sometimes,  now-a-days — 
flashed  a  little  when  he  looked  on  those  columns  and 
squadrons,  and  thought  that  they  were  all  his — when  he 
had  the  privilege,  too,  of  showing  them  to  the  Czar,  and 
thus  giving  a  polite  hint  to  that  opposition  house  on  the 
other  side  of  the  street.  '  Do  you  see  them,,  old  boy  ? 
They  belong  to  me!  I  manage  them!  Look  at  them 
well,  and  see  if  you  fancy  that  you  could  ride  into  Paris  a 
conqueror,  as  your  namesake  did.  Not  if  this  imperial 
Court  knows  hei'self,  and  she  think  she  do!'  This  was 
what  Nappy  was  saying,  under  his  breath,  to  the  Czar, 
as  the  two  looked  at  the  fifty  battalions  of  infantry,  fifty- 
squadrons  of  cavalry,  and  eighteen  or  twenty  batteries  of 
artillery — really  the  best  trained  troops  in  the  world  :  the 
men  in  good  condition,  the  cavalry  powerfully  mounted, 
the  artillery  riding  guns  that  the  Emperor  has  made  per- 
fection, and  the  whole  such  a  mass  of  splendid  uniforms, 
bright  weapons,  glittering  brass  and  silver,  plumes,  flags, 
and  perpetual  motion,  that  the  eye  was  kept  steadily 
whirling  from  one  point  to  another,  and  a  fellow  came 
nearer  to  being  drunk  than  he  usually  does  without  a  tod. 
Then  the  bands  and  the  music  they  made  ! — but  you  know 
about  French  bands ;  and  when  I  tell  vou  that  there  must 


78  PARIS    IX    '6  7. 

hare  been  a  hundied  of  them,  with  thirty  or  forty  in- 
struments to  each,  and  thnt  they  ^^/ayec? — not  squealed 
or  screamed,  but  plai/fd — you  can  form  some  idea  of  the 
■way  that  the  '  music  of  the  spheres,'  boiled  down  to  quiet 
thunder,  was  dinned  into  our  ears.  But  while  Nappy  was 
seeing  and  hearing  all  this,  and  saying  so  much  to  the 
Czar  without  being  heard,  I  was  saying  something  that 
has  not  been  heard  until  now.  And  this  was  my  little 
address  to  my  friend  Xappy :  '  Old  fel.,  they  are  a  nice 
body  of  troops,  horse,  foot  and  dragoons,  and  they  would 
do  to  tie  to  under  ordinary  cii'cumstances,  such  as  a  scrim- 
mage with  the  Russian  Bear  yonder,  or  any  little  trifle  of 
that  sort.  But  do  you  know  what  I  saw  a  couple  of  years 
ago,  when  Grant  and  Sherman  marched  the  remnants  of 
their  armies  through  Washington  ? — A  body  of  men  in 
faded  uniforms,  no  shirts,  and  scarcely  a  shoe;  the  flags 
tatters,  the  horses  half  skeletons,  and  the  poor  fellows 
looking  as  if  they  needed  early  foraging  for  a  dinner ;  not 
a  flash  of  splendor  anywhere  about  them,  not  a  suggestion 
of  beauty  or  a  thought  of  even  comfort ;  and  yet  befoi-e 
the  same  number  of  that  body  of  men,  your  gingerbread 
battalions,  that  day  or  this  day,  w^ould  be  scattered  like 
chaff  blowTi  away  before  an  American  nortliAvester. 
That  is  about  the  style  and  size  of  it,  my  imperial  friend 
and  brother!'  This  is  what  I  was  saying,  just  then. 
What  do  you  think  of  it  as  a  specimen  of  spread-eagle  that 
will  wash  ? 

"  Xow  a  word  about  something  else  that  occurred  the 
same  day — the  attempt  to  shoot  the  Czar.  I  do  not  like 
regicides — like  them  less  than  ever,  since  April  1865  ;  so 
I  do  not  know  why  I  should  have  been  selected  to  see 
Bertezowski,  or  Bergerowski,  or  Bergouski,  or  whatever  is 
his  confounded  name,  make  a  fool  and  a  scoundrel  of  him- 
self at  tlie  same  time.  But  so  I  was,  perliaps  because  (as 
the  Banker  would  say)  I  was  '  foreordained '  to  tell  you 


GARXIVAL     OF     CF.OWXED    HEADS.     79 

about  it.  I  shall  not  tell  you  much,  though,  for  I  may  be- 
fore have  remarked  that  I  don't  approve  of  anythmg  mur- 
derous, from  a  hanging-match  to  a  bout  at  fisticuffs.  Well, 
the  review  was  over,  the  troops  were  filing  away,  part  of 
them  Parisward,  through  the  Avenue  de  Longchamps, 
and  the  rest  westward  toward  Yallerien,  It  may  have 
been  about  five  o'clock,  I  should  think ;  and  Count  Bob 
and  I,  in  our  open  fiacre,  were  just  turning  into  the  ave- 
nue from  the  Cascade,  where  we  had  been  watching — I 
suppose  that  I  may  as  well  tell  the  whole  truth  while  I  am 
about  it — watching  a  couple  of  '  pieces  of  calico '  that 
seemed  to  want  'pressing  out.'  Suddenly  a sergent  de  ville 
took  our  horse  by  the  head  and  forced  him  back,  the 
crowd  opened  way  by  falling  back  against  the  borders, 
and  away  came  an  open  carriage  and  four  at  a  smart  trot, 
with  a  sprinkling  of  ofiicers  ahead  and  half  around  it,  and 
a  squadron  of  lancers  close  behind ;  and  we  saw  that  it 
was  the  two  emperors,  riding  together,  and  their  heads 
very  near,  as  if  in  conversation.  Just  then  Count  Bob 
grasped  my  arm  with  a  half-cry  :  '  Look  there  !  See  that 
dog  with  a  pistol !  Where  is  he  pointing  it  ?  He  is 
mad !'  I  saw  by  that  time,  that  a  thin,  starved-looking 
fellow,  with  wild  eyes  and  old  clothes,  had  stej^ped  from 
behind  a  tree,  and  that  he  really  had  a  pistol  pointed  to- 
ward the  carriage  of  the  emperors.  Before  I  could  see 
anything  more,  distinctly,  there  was  another  cry,  a  rush ; 
and  it  seemed  to  me  that  at  the  same  instant  when  I  heard 
the  bang  of  the  pistol,  I  saw  a  man  spur  his  horse  almost 
against  the  carriage,  and  thought  that  he  must  be  another 
conspirator,  and  that  there  was  really  going  to  be  murder 
by  the  Avholesale.  But  it  seemed  that  he  was  only  a  lucky 
fellow,  who  chanced  to  be  in  the  way  of  making  his  for- 
tune, and  that  he  had  seen  the  movement  and  pushed  his 
horse  in  the  way  so  rapidly  that  the  bullet  hit  the  horse 
instead  of   either  of  the  emperors,  though  part  of  the 


80  PARIS    IN   '67. 

blood  went  over  them.  The  man  who  had  fired  was  down 
(they  said  that  the  pistol  had  burst  and  half  blown  off  his 
han.cQ  ;  about  twenty  people  wei'e  on  top  of  him  or  grab- 
bing at  him ;  mounted  police  and  officers  were  spurring 
every  which  way  and  getting  nowhere ;  everybody  seemed 
to  be  shouting  and  getting  arrested ;  and  there  was  a  lively 
time  generally.  Count  Bob  said  that  all  that  was  wanted  was 
a  barricade.  The  only  calm  people,  I  think,  were  the  two 
emperors,  each  one  of  whom  seemed  to  be  looking  whether 
the  other  was  hurt,  without  much  apparent  thought  for 
himself,  or  whether  there  might  not  be  another  bullet 
where  that  came  from. 

"  That  is  nearly  all  that  I  know  of  the  affair,  except  that 
I  saw  Nappy  and  his  friend  acknowledging  the  felicita- 
tions of  the  crowd,  and  thought  better  of  monarchy  at 
that  moment  than  I  had  ever  done  before  ;  that  I  saw 
them  bundle  up  the  pistol  man,  after  nearly  pounding  him 
to  a  jelly,  throw  him  into  a  close  carriage,  and  drive  him 
away  ;  and  that  then  the  guards  came  closer  around  the 
imperial  carriage  (just  when  they  were  less  wanted),  and 
it  trotted  rapidly  up  the  avenue.  My  opinion  is  that  the 
Parisians,  who  don't  like  anybody  to  be  killed  by  others 
than  themselves,  would  have  hung  the  drunken  or  crazy 
Pole  if  they  had  caught  him  and  understood  what  he  had 
done ;  and  another  of  my  opinions  is  that  the  man  who 
had  his  horse  shot  will  make  a  good  thing  out  of  the  little 
operation,  while  I,  who  saw  it  as  well  as  he,  and  would 
have  prevented  the  shot  if  I  could,  haven't  made  anything 
out  of  it — not  even  a  readable  paragraph." 

I  am  indebted  to  "  JMonadnock,"  of  the  New  York  Daily 
Times.,  an  excellent  descriptive  correspondent,  for  the  brief 
word  which  follows,  with  reference  to  the  appearance  of 
the  Grand  Opera  on  Wednesday  evening,  the  5th  June,  and 
tlw6  arrangement  of  the  party  in  the  Imperial  box — a  scene 
which  the  "  Comiselor's  Lady  "  joins  with  him  in  consid- 


CARNIVAL     OF    CROWNED    HEADS.     81 

ering  unparalleled  in  play-house  annals,  whether  for  the 
distinction  of  the  company  present,  or  the  splendor  of  de- 
tail in  costumes,  lights,  and  general  scenic  effect : — 

"The  splendor  of  the  Imperial  box  at  the  opera,"  says 
this  correspondent,  "  in  the  midst  of  all  the  blaze  of  liglit 
and  beauty,  of  riches  and  magnificence  around  it,  may  be 
imagined  from  the  following  plan,  which  will  show  you 
the  arrangement  of  the  imperial  and  royal  assemblage; 
each  of  the  following  illustrious  personages,  be  it  ob- 
served, having  his  or  her  attendants,  suitable  to  their 
rank,  and  all  with  appropriate  costumes  and  decorations, 

THE  IMPERIAL  BOX. 

Prince  Mubat. 
Duke  of  Leuchtenbebg. 
Princess  Eugenie. 
Grand  Duke  "Waldimhi. 
Princess  Louis  of  Hesse. 
Hereditary  Grand  Duke. 
Princess  Royal  of  Prussia. 
EMPEROR  NAPOLEOK 
EMPEROR  ALEXANDER. 
EMPRESS  EUGENIE. 

Prince  Royal  of  Prussia. 

Grand  Duchess  Mary  of  Russia. 
Prince  Louis  of  Hesse. 
Princess  Mathilde. 

Prince  Ferdinand  of  Hesse. 
Princess  Murat. 

Prince  of  Saxe- Weimar. 
Brother  op  the  Tycoon. 

"  Arrange  these  in  the  dress  circle  of  the  most  brilliant 
theatre  you  can  conceive,  with  their  attendant  celebrities 
grouped  behind  them,  in  a  house  filled  with  the  cream 
of  the  most  brilliant  ca])ital  in  the  world,  and  you 
have  a  spectacle,  compared  to  which  that  of  the  stage 
offered  but  slight  attractions  to  the  curious  or  thoughtful 

4* 


82  PARIS    IF    '67. 

visitor.  The  two  emperors  and  the  sons  of  the  Czar  were 
dressed  in  "brilliant  uniforms,  as  well  as  many  others,  while 
the  imperial  and  royal  ladies,  among  whom  the  Empress 
shines  supreme  in  beauty  as  in  power,  all  wore  their  dia- 
dems, and  all  blazed  and  glittered  with  most  precious 
gems." 

The  reception  of  the  Czar,  and  the  festivities  which  fol- 
lowed that  event,  have  been  thus  dwelt  upon,  a  little  at 
length,  because  they  may  be  regarded  as  having  been  the 
culmination  of  this  apotheosis  of  royalty  during  the  Expo- 
sition. Only  less  imperial  attention,  meanwhile,  was  paid 
to  the  King  of  Prussia,  the  mutual  embrace  of  whom  with 
the  Emperor  may  or  may  not  have  been  accompanied  (as 
maliciously  alleged)  with  deadly  hatred  on  either  side  and 
a  desire  for  speedy  immolation  of  the  "  brother."  Per- 
hajjs  the  Sultan,  with  his  oriental  luxury  and  attendance, 
produced  more  effect  on  the  minds  of  the  volatile  Paris- 
ians than  either  of  his  more  j^owerful  rivals ;  and  the 
eagerness  with  which  the  mercantile  classes  of  the  city  are 
always  ready  to  seize  ujion  local  or  momentary  advertising 
advantages,  has  been  amusingly  shown  by  the  numbei's  of 
establishments  decorating  their  fronts  with  flags  of  what 
chanced  for  the  moment  to  be  the  predominating  foreign 
nation  in  the  public  mind,  and  to  pull  up  those  character- 
istic signs  pandering  to  the  madness  of  the  hour  :  "  Au 
Sultan,"  "  A  la  Reiue  de  Prusse,"  "  Au  Czar,"  "  Au  Bey 
de  Tunis,"  &c. 

But  this  episodical  paper  on  the  royal  visitors  to  Paris 
must  come  to  a  close.  This  is  not  a  history,  as  readers 
may  before  this  time  have  discovered ;  and  it  is  not  a  por- 
trait-gallery, even  for  royal  personages,  except  as  here  and 
there  "  Our  Boy  Tommy,"  the  "  Counselor's  Lady,"  or 
some  other  member  of  my  "  reliable  corps "  of  resident 
Parisian  correspondents,  may  supply  a  few  daguerreotypes 
caught  in  the  midst  of  current  ceremonials. 


vm. 

THE   OPENING  OF    THE  EXPOSITION— AS   SEEN  BY 
"OUR  BOY   TOMMY." 

m 

The  Governor,  as  already  indicated,  was  not  present  at 
tbe  Opening  of  the  Great  Exposition,  from  causes  too 
numerous,  too  uninteresting  (and  some  of  them  too  deli- 
cate) for  public  mention.  That  official  ceremony  took  place 
on  Monday,  the  first  of  April ;  and  the  gubernatorial  arrival 
(on  the  way  to  the  Exposition,  Switzerland,  and  a  summer 
spree  generally)  occurred  at  or  about  the  period  when  the 
prizes  had  just  been  declared,  and  the  jubilant  Americans, 
who  had  received  them  in  the  proportion  of  over  sixty  per 
cent.,  were  purchasing  their  lemon  kids  and  white  cravats 
for  the  Hail  Columbia  Fom'th  of  July  dinner  at  the  Grand 
Hotel. 

But.at  the  Opening,  as  well  as  on  other  notable  occa- 
sions during  the  Great  Exposition,  the  Governor,  though 
absent  himself,  rejoiced  in  the  presence  of  what  the  leading 
dailies  designate  as  "a  full  and  efficient  stafi"  of  corres- 
pondents." Various  accounts  of  each  have  accordingly 
been  supplied  to  the  "  directing  mind,"  affording  a  per- 
fect embarrasse  de  richesse  of  materials  for  choice  ;  and  it 
need  scarcely  be  said  that  the  most  reliable,  if  not  the  moat 
classic  account  of  each,  has  been  selected  with  Draconian 
impartiality.  Of  the  Opening,  by  far  the  most  trenchant 
account  was  supplied  by  "  Our  Boy  Tommy "  (before 
spoken  of) ;  and  he  has  accordingly  been  made  the  medium 
of  description,    his  own  Avords   being   used   throughout, 


84  PARIS    IF    '67. 

except  in  a  few  instances  in  which  the  originals  would  have 
been  found — not  to  put  too  fine  a  poiut  upon  it — strong  in 
expression. 

Tommy  is  of  New  York — New-Torky,  with  enough  of 
country  blood  on  one  side  to  give  him  breadth  if  it  takes 
away  a  shade  of  delicacy.  No  matter  how  Tommy's 
father  amassed  the  five  hundred  thousand  which  enables 
liim  to  hold  place  on  Murray  Hill  and  send  Tommy  to  be 
educated  in  Europe  :  enough  to  say  that  he  acquired  it 
honorably,  as  mercantile  life  goes,  before  the  days  of  bogus 
railways,  shoddy,  lead,  or  oil.  He  was  not  originally  well- 
educated  ;  and  remembering  the  toil  through  which  he 
acquii-ed,  in  later  years,  a  part  of  the  lore  which  should 
have  been  his  at  the  commencement  of  manhood,  he 
resolved  that  his  son  should  never  tread  the  same  weary 
road.  He  should  be  educated — educated  thoroughly ;  but 
where  ?  Not  at  home,  where  there  would  always  be  too 
many  "  entangling  alliances  "  for  his  thorough  grounding  ; 
not  in  any  distant  American  city,  for  one  reason  and 
another,  charmingly  incongruous ;  not  in  Germany,  for  if 
there  was  anything  that  Tommy's  father  hated,  that  object 
of  hatred  was  what  he  designated  as  "  Dutch  " — the  cause 
of  dislike  being  supposed  to  be  that  he  had  once  been  over- 
reached by  a  German  Jew  dealer,  in  an  early  mercantile 
transaction.  AYhere,  then  ?  A  thoughtful  friend  sug- 
gested— Paris.  The  very  place  !  His  boy  could  learn 
his  books  and  the  world  at  the  same  time ;  and  as  for  any 
of  the  dangers  of  what  were  called  the  "  dissipations  of 
Paris " — fudge ! — if  his  son  had  not  brains  enough  to 
withstand  them^  be  was  not  worth  educating  anywhere ! 

So  Tommy's  father  brought  Tommy  to  Paris,  in  the  latr 
ter  part  of  1865,  and  left  hira  in  pleasant  lodgings  not 
far  from  the  Boulevard  des  Poissonieres,  with  a  liberal 
allowance  of  pocket-money,  and  a  slight  permission  tQ 
i^'  dra\v  "  in  case  of  absolute  necessity  (only) ;  an  abbe  as 
i. 


OP  EN' IN  a     OF    TEE    EXPOSITION.     85 

a  tutor,  and  piles  of  injunctions  to  "  be  a  good  boy,  take 
care  of  himself,  learn  like  all  the  sages  of  old  rolled  up 
into  one,  and  not  disgrace  America." 

In  his  something  less  than  two  years.  Tommy  has  not 
"disgraced  America"  in  any  of  the  senses  common  to 
those  words.  He  has  "  drawn  "  perhaps  a  little  oftener 
than  the  paternal  purse  at  first  contemplated;  he  has 
"  taken  care  of  himself"  in  that  definite  manner  only 
known  to  Parisians  and  merely  suspected  by  the  rest  of 
mankind  ;  and  if  he  has  not  learned  "  like  all  the  sages  of 
old  rolled  up  into  one,"  he  has  certainly  acquired  some 
information  very  likely  to  astonish  those  grave  and 
reverend  pundits  if  they  could  come  back  to  take  a  peep 
into  it.  Tominy  will  return  to  America,  some  day,  and 
astonish  his  father,  who  did  not  visit  the  Exposition — not 
even  to  "  see  how  his  boy  got  along." 

"  Our  Boy  Tommy  "  is  verging  on  seventeen,  with  the 
beauty  of  an  archangel  in  his  handsomely-cut  face,  blue 
eyes,  and  curly  brown  hair  ;  and  the  spirit  of  what  some 
people  call  a  "  young  devil "  in  the  braiu  behind  the  eyes 
and  under  the  hair ;  while  there  are  those  who  believe  that 
when  he  has  "sown  his  wild  oats"  (juvenile  adventure 
of  that  costly  cereal)  he  will  be  "  as  steady  as  a  church 
clock  " — whatever  may  be  the  reliability  of  that  paragon 
in  horology. 

"  Bet  your  boots  that  I'm  going  to  see  all  that  is  to  be 
seen;  and  that. I  can  tell  you  what  I  see,  about  as  well 
as  any  old  foo-foo  you  can  send  over  !"  So  wrote  "  Our 
Boy  Tommy,"  in  those  early  days  of  the  spring  when 
piled  lumber,  heaps  of  iron,  packing-boxes  and  bloused 
workmen  were  about  equally  plenty  in  the  great  building ; 
and  he  kept  his  promise,  as  has  before  been  said,  to  the 
discomfiture  of  all  ojiponents,  and  in  manner  and  form  fol- 
lowing— a  few  ameliorations  being  blended  with  a  few  in- 
terpolations : — 


86  PARIS    /xV    '67. 

"  You  kno-vr,  Gov."  thus  irreverently  commences  the 
youngster,  "  that  I  am  no  chicken  around  Paris,  as  the 
Banker"  (supposed  to  mean  his  respected  parent)  "brought 
me  here  in  the  latter  part  of  '65,  just  after  you  had  been 
here,  you  know,  making  such  a  guy  of  yourself  in  trying 
to  talk  French,  and  really  gabbling  something  much  more 
like  Calmuck-Tartar.  Some  of  the  greenbacks  have  got 
away  since  then  ;  and  may  be  there  is  any  part  of  this 
small  village  that  I  don't  know  ;  but  if  there  is,  you'd 
better  find  somebody  to  take  me  there  !  Stupid  and  dingy 
old  boxes  of  theatres  they  have  here,  alongside  of  what 
we  have  in  New  York,  you  know — cross  between  a  bar- 
room aud  an  undertaker's  shop,  with  a  dash  of  ladies'  dress- 
ing-room ;  but  I've  been  to  all  of  'em,  until  most  of  the  old 
CO  vies  at  the  gates  know  me  Uke  a  book,  and  don't  even 
ask  me  for  the  '  beyea  daduiisyong,  Mossoo !'  when  I  hap- 
pen to  forget  to  hand  it  over. 

"  Some  ballet  at  the  opera,  generally,  though  I  think 
that  you  may  have  seen  a  little  of  it  here,  as  well  as  in 
your  own  town.  Les  joUes  jamhes,  'poetry  of  motion' and 
all  that  sort  of  thing  ;  rather  spicy,  but  good  after  supper 
and  before  going  to  the  '  virtuous  couch,'  besides  supply- 
ing a  capital  study  in  geometry  (shapes  of  things)  and 
natural  history  (structure  of  the  human  animal).  As  for 
music — except  Patti  (that  we  gave  them),  they  have'nt  had 
much  in  the  way  of  throats  since  I  have  been  in  Paris — 
plenty  of  squalling,  but  Pve  learned  to  '•look  out  for 
squalls,'  and  they  only  affect  me  with  the^ear-ache.  Cut 
the  opera,  all  but  a  finish  up  that  it  has  sometimes ;  aud 
about  that — a  page  or  two  nearer  the  end  of  the  book. 

"  Had  high  old  times  at  the  Gaite,  while  the  Menken  has 
been  here  doing  her  little  Mazeppa.  Is  n't  the  Menken  a 
peeler,  though  ?  (don't  go  to  making  any  bad  puns  on 
that  word,  for  I  don't  mean  it  in  that  light — ^not  even  gas- 
light), aud  didn't  I  fall  in  love  with  her  just  a  little,  one 


OPEN'I^fa    OF    THE    EXP0SITI02T.      87 

night  when  Count  Bob  (you  don't  know  Count  Bob,  but 
he  is  one  of  the  boys,  even  if  he  is  a  Frenchman)  took 
me  behind  the  scenes  and  into  her  dressing-room,  just  when 
the  lady  was  being  curried  off.  No,  I  don't  mean  the  horse., 
but  the  lady,  stupid  !  Her  maid-of-honor  was  just  wiping 
off  the  little  spots  of  dust  from  the  silk  thingamys  that 
didn't  hide  the  shape  a  bit,  and  hardly  the  red  blood  un- 
der the  gauzy  skin  ;  and  ma  foi!  (as  they  make  us  swear 
here,  in  French)  what  a  shape  that  was !  Seemed  as  if 
all  the  physicalities  of  perfect  womanhood  (aren't  they  big 
words,  for  a  youngster  ?)  were  rolled  up  into  one  thing,  and 
there  it  was  !  Where  are  yow,  Phidias  and  the  other  old 
foo-foos  that  used  to  make  women  of  marble !  Then  La 
Menken  has  an  eye — two  of  'em,  besides  a  pair  of  lijis  ; 
and  what  is  it  that  makes  a  fellow,  merely  looking  at  the 
eyes,  think  of  the  lips  ?  See  if  I  don't  cypher  out  that 
problem  some  day,  before  I  do  the  fifth  of  Euclid  !  But, 
fudge  ! — you  will  not  pay  me  for  telling  you  all  this  ;  and 
yet  I  must  tell  you  one  thing  more  :  they  say  awful  things 
about  the  Menken  sometimes,  and  they  have  had  an  Al- 
exandre Dumas  scandal  here,  for  which  somebody's  head 
should  have  been  punched  ;  and  yet,  though  I  have  no 
doubt  that  the  lady  has  beep  a  little  'off  color,'  and  though 
Mazeppa  and  T;he  French  Spy  may  not  be .  exactly  the 
thing  in  which  we  should  like  our  sisters  to  'show  them- 
selves'— yet,  do  you  know,  I  am  not  only  in  love,  just  a 
little,  with  La  Menken,  but  believe  that  she  has  been  '  as 
good  as  they  make  'em,'  and  that  she  is  now,  and  always 
has  been,  no  light  papers  in  the  way  of  brains,  and  kind, 
benevolent,  and  warm-hearted  to  a  fault.  There — now 
you  have  my  opinion  ;  and  laugh  at  it,  or  make  a  mock  of 
it  in  the  American  newspapers,  if  you  dare !" 

There  is  no  intention  of  doing  so,  Thomas ;  your  esti- 
mate of  one  of  the  most  erratic  and  best-abused  women  in 
the  world — perhaps  one  of  the  most  imj^rudent,  and  in  some 


^ 


88  PARIS   IN   '67. 

regards  reprehensible — is  very  nearly  correct;  and  the 
Governor  would  be  the  last  man  to  gainsay  a  word  of  it. 
But  don't  fall  in  love  with  her,  Thomas.  As  a  friend  of 
mine  once  remarked  when  asked  to  give  up  his  whole  sum- 
mer's plans  of  recreation  at  the  whim  of  a  coquette :  "  It 
might  be  pleasant  enough,  but  it  woulchi't  pay  P^ 

"  INIay  be  I've  been  to  Mabille,"  pursues  Tommy,  "  and 
may  be  I  haven't — ask  the  abbe,  who  wouldn't  let  me  go 
where  I  oughtn't  to  be,  you  know  ;  and  ask  Count  Bob, 
and  Fred  Raikes,  a  jolly  little  London  swell  that  has  no 
end  of  tin,  and  likes  to  go  out  with  me,  though  I  shall  some 
day  subject  him  to  amputation  of  the  caput  if  he  don't 
stop  calling  me  'Yankee  Doodle.'  I  have  been  to  the 
Chateau  des  Fleurs,  at  all  events,  and  that  is  not  far  off 
Mabille,  either  way.  And  don't  they  do  their  little  cancan 
THEBE,  sometimes  !  If  they  don't,  they  do  at  Asnieres,  and 
I've  been  there  !  It  is  '  high,'  the  cancan  is,  anywhere ;  and 
they  don't  let  it  down  just  about  here.  And  they  don't 
much,  at  the  Balls  of  the  Opera,  which  it  takes  a  Parisian  to 
know  occur  on  the  ten  last  Saturdays  and  the  one  last 
Tuesday  before  Ash- Wednesday  (overhaul  your  English 
Church  Ritual  and  make  a  note  of  when  that  day  is,  if  you 
don't  happen  to  know).  Everybody  goes  to  the  Ball  of 
the  Opera  ;  everybody  does  what  he  pleases  there  ;  and  I 
don't  know  but  I  like  it  better  than  any  of  the  other  places, 
becaiise  a  fellow  can  get  himself  up  into  anything  he  likes 
and  nobody  can  tell  how  old  he  is  and  snub  him  about 
'beards'  and  other  things  that  nobody  wants.  And  then 
they  '  don't  go  home  till  morning,'  and  when  they  do  go 
home  it  isn't  always  exactly  pious — do  you  think  it  is  ? 
But  there  I  go ! — you  will  not  want  to  pay  me  for  every- 
tliing  else  than  the  Exposition,  and  have  nothing  of  that ; 
so  I  must  get  on  to  it. 

"  Wasn't  Paris  full,  at  just  before  the  first  of  April  ? 
Full  wasn't  any  name  for  it,  as  some  of  your  New  York 


OPENIN^G     OF    THE    EXPOSITION'.       89 

boys  used  to  say  of  a  Broadway  stage  wlien  it  had  eight- 
een inside  and  twelve  on  the  roof.  It  was  jammed — 
that's  the  word  !  Not  so  many  big-wigs  and  big-bugs  as 
have  already  been  here  since ;  but  more  people  than  you 
ever  saw  here  at  any  one  time,  except  old  Nappy's  fifteenth 
of  August.  Everybody  had  crowded  in,  from  everywhere, 
to  get  what  I  suppose  they  thought  would  be  the  best  of 
the  thing,  because  it  was  the  first.  Didn't  they  hit  it, 
though  !  The  big  building  w^as  just  about  as  ready  to 
open,  for  any  kind  of  use,  as — as — well,  say  as  ready  as  a 
big  pie  to  take  out  and  eat  before  it  has  got  warm  in  the 
oven.  (That  makes  me  think  of  American  pies,  that  I 
can't  get  here,  and  the  result  isn't  comfortable — so  cut  it ! 
not  the  pie  :  I  wish  I  could  !) 

"  The  abbe  and  I  went  there  only  two  days  before  (he 
has  '  influence ' — don't  those  priests  have  it,  of  course  only 
for  '  beneficial  purposes  ' — nothing  else — oh,  no,  we  never 
mention  it ! — but  if  they  did  happen  to  like  the  women, 
now,  wouldn't  there  be  a  gay  old  time) !  There  were  some 
things  to  be  seen  even  then  ;  but  they  had  a  bordering  of 
w^heelbarrows  and  a  coating  of  mallets  and  iron  bars,  with 
a  few  screw-drivers  and  spikes ;  everything  was  half-dry 
paint,  except  what  was  half-put-up  machinery  ;  packing- 
boxes  and  cases  enough  stood  in  the  way  to  have  made 
Stewart,  Lord  &  Taylor,  and  Claflin,  happy  for  life  (bless 
the  old  New  York  dry -goods  nobs ! — ^the  Banker  was  in 
trade  once,  and  we're  not  ashamed  of  it).  Heaps  of  things 
to  stumble  over,  and  lots  of  chalky  workmen  to  run 
against,  so  that  the  abbe  had  those  dear  black-stockinged 
shins  of  his  barked  like  a  birch  tree,  and  I  knocked  oflE"the 
end  of  my  precious  nose  on  an  iron  bracket  that  had  not 
yet  been  screwed  up  into  its  place,  besides  getting  so  deaf 
with  the  banging  and  pounding  that  I  have  not  been  able 
to  hear  my  tailor  when  he  dunned  me,  ever  since.  Men 
at  work  everywhere  (a  little),  and  gabbling  (a  good  deal), 


90  PARIS    IX   '67. 

and  what  the  Banker  used  to  say  that  Joseph  Bonaparte, 
when  he  lived  at  Bordentown,  once  kicked  up  at  a  Jersey 
City  hotel  when  he  was  on  his  way  to  New  York — '  a 
de\il  of  a  fuss  generally.'  Pretty  thing  to  open,  that — 
wasn't  it  ? 

"  May  be  it  hadn't  rained  in  and  about  Paris  for  the  week 
or  two  before  the  Opening ;  then  again  may  be  it  had  ! 
Maybe  the  map  of  Paris  didn't  need  to  be  changed,  so  that 
what  had  been  streets  could  be  set  down  as  rivers,  and  the 
boulevards  mai-ked  as  oceans !  May  be  the  big  obelisk 
in  the  Place  de  la  Concorde  didn't  get  beaten  all  one- 
sided by  the  rain  knocking  on  it  all  one  way,  and  that  the 
marble  horses  of  Marly  didn't  get  so  water-soaked  tliat 
they  were  obliged  to  put  India-rubber  blankets  on  them  to 
prevent  their  taking  cold  and  going  off  in  a  galloping 
consumption  !  May  be  they  didn't  have  to  stop  the  foun- 
tains playing,  to  prevent  a  general  deluge  ;  and  that  all  the 
fish  in  the  Seine  didn't  crowd,  in  under  the  bridges  to 
escape  the  rain  pounding  in  the  river,  until  the  ragged 
boys  scooped  them  up  by  the  bushel  in  baskets,  to 
find  them  so  soaked  that  they  wouldn't  fry!  May  be  all 
the  glazing  didn't  wash  off  the  shiny  hats  of  the  red-waist- 
coated  cab-drivers,  and  that  umbrellas  didn't  go  up  {up  in 
the  shops  as  well  as  the  streets),  till  the  Compagnie  Lyon- 
naise  shut  up  their  windows,  and  all  the  old  silk  and  ging- 
ham skirts  were  ripped  up  and  made  into  ^x<r(yj9^««V5  / 
May  be  all  this  didn't  happen,  and  may  be  it  did.  Ask 
Count  Bob ;  he  wouldn't  lie,  except  under  what  he  calls 
'  peculiar  circumstances  ?' 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  happened  during  the  night 
before  the  1  st  of  April,  as  if  we  were  all  to  be  made  bigger 
April-fools  than  we  would  otherwise  have  been.  Send  me 
back  to  Xew  York  '  on  sight,'  if  it  didn't  stop  raining 
and  dry  up  I — just  as  if  Napj)y  had  been  corresponding 
with  the  clerk  of  the  weather  instead  of  Bismarck,  and 


OPENING     OF    THE    EXPOSITION.       91 

got  Mm  to  let  up  for  just  that  once.  Fred  Raikes  says 
tliat  two  umbrella-sellers  committed  suicide  by  swallowing 
bunches  of  whalebone  ribs,  when  they  saw  the  sun  come 
out  at  breakfast  time ;  and  that  the  river-rats  held  a  mass 
meeting  of  congratulation  on  the  Quai  d'Orsay,  when  they 
found  that  their  holes  were  not  to  be  more  than  fifty  feet 
under  water.  This  is  Fred's  story,  I  wasn't  there  :  don't 
ask  me   to  '  indorse '   anything  more   dangerous  than   a 

*  little  bill.' 

"  Fred  tells  another  story,  too,  that  you  may  have  at 
the  same  price.  Fred  says  that  Nappy  was  seen  poking 
his  head  out  of  one  of  the  windows  of  the  Tuileries, 
about  daylight  that  morning,  with  liis  embroidered  night- 
cap askew,  and  talking  to  Baron  Haussmann,  who  had  just 
ridden  up  with  his  feet  touching  the  ground,  on  a  bob- 
tailed  pony.  Xappy  said  that  '  if  it  rained  again  that  day, 
and  things  went  wrong,  he  should  go  to  thunder,  sure !' 
Haussmann  assured  him  that  '  he  knew  how  to  straighl^en 
things  at  the  worst ;  he  thought  there  was  room  in  Paris 
for  one  more  new  boulevard,  to  be  called  the  Boulevard  de 
la  Grande  Exposition,  and  when  that  was  finished  by  tear- 
ing down  a  mile  or  two  more  of  houses,  everything  would 
be  lovely.'  Then  Nappy  inquired  '  if  the  proper  diiec- 
tions  had  been  given,  so  that  the  cheers  of  the  day  would 
come  in  at  the  right  places;'  '  whether  the  American  Com- 
missioners had  arrived  and  been  provided  with  pork-and- 
beans,  whiskey  and  soda-water,'  as  also  '  whether  anything 
had  been  seen  of  his  friend  Abbott  in  a  day  or  two,  as 
something  might  occur  during  the  day  which  would  never 
be  detailed  unless   the   historian  of  Napoleon  could  be 

*  privy  '  to  it.  Haussmann  assured  him  that  the  '  enthusi- 
asm of  the  workmen'  had  been  properly  manufactured, 
by  promising  them  a  loaf  of  bread  and  a  bottle  of  vin  ordi- 
naire each,  ten  years  hence,  if  they  flourished  their  shovels 
and  pickaxes  properly,  and  that  M.  Abbott  was  at  hand, 


92  PARIS   /iV   '67. 

having  been  seen  the  day  before,  bargaining  with  a  second- 
hand dealer  in  the  Faubourg  St.  Antoine,  for  a  nail  said 
to  have  been  used  in  the  horse-shoe  of  one  of  the  camp- 
followers  at  Leipsic ;  and  the  dismembered  handle  of  an 
earthen  vessel,  believed  to  have  been  once  in  the  posses- 
sion of  the  great  emperor  himself.  Then  Nappy  held  up 
his  hand  again,  to  see  if  it  rained,  looked  at  the  weather- 
cock on  the  northeast  gable,  and  suggested  that  '  in  case 
it  should  rain,  he  wished  Madame  Haussmann  would  bring 
back  that  umbrella  from  the  hat-rack  on  the  third  floor, 
that  Eugenie  lent  her  a  week  or  two  before,'  and  that  'he 
believed  that  was  all.'  Thereupon,  freezing  Haussmann, 
with  what  was,  no  doubt,  intended  for  a  smile  (the  latter 
waving  a  Japanese  fan  in  token  of  adieu,  and  riding  away), 
Nappy  drew  in  his  night-cap  and  shut  down  the  window, 
calling  immediately  afterward  for  '  Francois '  and  '  wax- 
pomade,'  leading  to  the  impression  that  the  weather  must 
have  dampened  the  ends  of  his  moustaches  as  well  as  his 
imperial  spirits. 

"  But,  the  heavens  be  good  to  us ! — as  the  Banker's  Irish 
coachman  used  to  say  when  he  was  the  '  laste  taste  in  life ' 
puzzled — here  have  I  only  arrived  at  daylight  of  the 
Opening  morning,  and  see  what  a  space  I  have  filled  ! 
Never  mind,  people  will  read  what  /  write,  if  they  devour 
that  stufi"  of  yours.  Make  one  batch  of  this,  send  me 
over  the  pecuniary  documents  (for  Fred  and  I — entre 
nous — have  a  nice  little  thing  waiting),  and  let  me  show 
my  best  paces  in  another.  Won't  you  ?  That's  a  jolly 
old  trump  !" 

"  Our  Boy  Tommy  "  having  done  so  well  in  supplying 
an  entire  article  without  conveying  a  word  of  the  matter 
intended,  and  thus  shown  his  capacity  for  diplomatic 
service,  must  certainly  be  allowed  space  in  the  folloAving 
paper,  to  say  what  should  have  been  said  in  the  present. 


IX. 

opening  of  the  exposition— "  toilmy's " 
at:rsion. 

SECOND  PAPER. 

"  Well,"  pursues  Tommy,  "  to  tell  you  what  I  saw  and 
not  what  Fred  Raikes  said  that  he  saw,  on  the  day  of  the 
Opening. 

"I  went  with  the  abbe  and  Fred.  Count  Bob  was 
needed  to  fill  one  corner  of  the  family  carriage  ;  though 
they  said  that  he  swore,  awfully,  at  being  stuck  away 
among  the  fossils,  when  there  was  something  younger  and 
better.  I  am  only  seventeen,  you  know,  so  I  couldn't  go 
it  alone.  Bah  ! — don't  I  wish  they  only  could  know  how 
seventeen  can  take  care  of  itself!  As  I  was  an  American, 
and  to  be  (ahem !)  the  principal  person  of  the  party,  we 
all  went  as  Americans  ;  and  General  Dix,  our  Ambassa- 
dor (isn't  he  a  brave  old  white-head  ?  and  don't  I  wish 
that  somebody  would^  say  something  against  him,  so  that 
I  could  practice  on  him,  fistically  ?) — the  old  general,  though 
he  had  just  reached  France,  and  was,  as  they  said, '  scarcely 
warm  in  his  seat,'  got  us  all  the  tickets  and  orders,  and 
made  all  the  arrangements  to  put  us  among  the  ofiicials, 
and  give  us  everything  nobby.  Bless  his  old  white  head, 
I  say  once  more !  '  If  any  one  attempts  to  haul  down  that 
flag  (of  truce)  shoot  him  on  the  spot !' 

"  But  here  I  am,  running  off  again  !  Check  me  up, 
won't  you?  We  went  first,  that  day,  Fred  and  I,  to  the 
Trocadero  Hill,  as  the  place  from  which  the  best  view  of 
the  morning  could  be  managed.     Do  you  know  where  the 


94  I'-i  ^^S   IN   '6  7. 

Trocadero  Hill  is  ?  No — how  should  you  ? — though  you 
will  before  you  have  done  your  little  Exposition  and  gone 
home  again.  Well,  when  you  were  here  in  '65,  there  was  an 
ugly  line  of  rough  high  bank,  on  the  north  side  of  the 
Bridge  of  Jena,  opj^osite  the  dust-heapy  Champ  de  Mars. 
For  months,  now,  they  have  been  turning  this  into  a  ter- 
race sloping  down  to  the  river, — with  wheelbarrows,  and 
pickaxes,  and  shovels,  and  carts,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing  ; 
and  one  of  these  long  days  you  will  see  it  all  stone  steps, 
away  up  from  the  bridge  to  the  top,  with  an  avenue  that 
they  are  going  to  call  the  Avenue  de  le  Roi  de  Rome  (in 
memory  of  that  poor  little  light-papers  that  was  the  first 
"Napoleon's  son),  exactly  in  front  of  the  palace  and  running 
back  from  it  over  the  hill  toward  the  big  Arc  d'Etoile. 
Splendid  old  view  over  the  Seine,  the  Tuileries,  the  Louvre, 
and  all  the  way  down  to  the  He  de  la  Cite  and  Notre 
Dame,  and  then  over  the  big  boiler  (that's  what  they  call 
it)  in  which  Nappy  is  going  to  cook  the  visitorial  goose  : 
greenbacks  to  postage-stamps  that  there  is  such  a  view 
as  is  a  view,  of  a  fine  morning,  from  the  Trocadero  HUl, 
and  that  it  is  worth  remembering. 

" '  What  does  "  Trocadero "  mean  ?'  Oh,  you  thought 
that  you  had  me  there,  but  you  hadn't — not  once !  When 
there  were  two  parties  fighting  in  Spain,  a  good  many  years 
ago,  and  the  Johnny  Crapauds  helping  them,  they  stormed 
a  Spanish  fort  somewhere,  with  such  a  name ;  and  they  have 
named  rues  and  boulevards  and  '  places '  after  everybody 
that  ever  fought  a  French  battle,  and  after  every  French 
battle  that  ever  was  fought  {except  Waterloo !)  till  they 
have  pretty  much  used  up  the  stock  of  national  victories 
that  amount  to  anything,  and  are  under  the  necessity,  now, 
of  falling  back  on  the  little  ones.  That  is  the  story  of  the 
*  Trocadero,'  that  nobody  ever  heard  of  on  our  side  of  the 
big  pond.     Bet  yoi<  never  did!" 

At  this  point  it  becomes  necessary  to  check  the  young- 


''TOMMY'S''     YE  ESI  OK.  95 

ster  in  vhat  may  be  called  tlie  "impertinence  of  suddenly- 
acquired  information,"  like  that  which  consequential  green- 
horns show  when  they  have  a  head-start  of  an  hour  in 
seeing  Xiagara  or  one  of  the  great  mountains.  They  fancy 
that  they  oic7i  the  thing  thereafter,  until  the  conceit  is 
taken  out  of  them.  I,  the  Governor,  have  heard  of  the 
"  Trocadero,"  and  I  should  be  sorry  to  believe  that  many 
other  Americans  had  not.  The  French  allies  of  the  Chris- 
tines, under  the  Due  d'Angouleme,  in  the  struggle  with 
the  Carlists,  stormed  the  Trocadero  at  Cadiz,  about  1830; 
and  Thomas  Campbell  deified  the  Carlist  "patriots"  (the 
defeated  and  slain)  in  a  certain  poem  which  Tommy  will 
read  when  his  beard  is  grown — when  he  knows  more  and 
thinks  that  he  knows  less ;  the  opening  line  being  fomUiar 
to  most  readers  of  English  history  more  solid  than  the 
Swinburuian  and  Dobelly  : — 

"  Brave  men  ^\-ho  at  the  Trocadero  fell !"  &c.,  &c. 

Now  let  the  youngster  be  heard  once  more;  and  let  him 
keep  to  his  relation,  even  if  he  should  mingle  with  it  what 
he  calls  "  spice,"  and  some  of  the  rest  of  us  designate  as 
mild  "Xew  York  slang,'" — so  that  he  avoids  dangerous 
personalities. 

"  Well,  I  said  that  we  went  first  to  the  Trocadero,  to 
catch  the  ensemble.  It  was  a  gay  old  one,  you  can  take 
your  small  davy,  though  you  may  not  think  that  exactly 
the  word.  The  Champ  de  Mars  lay  just  far  enough  away 
to  keep  us  from  seeing  the  things  half-finished  around  the 
Exposition  building,  while  the  building  itself  shone  with 
a  sort  of  bright  blueness  under  the  morning  sun ;  and  the 
flags  of  all  nations  made  a  fellow  feel  as  if  he  did  not 
know  where  he  was  born,  fluttering  and  flapping  from  the 
little  poles  all  around  it ;  and  Napi»y's  imperial  standard 
and  the  tri-color,  floating  eagle  and  ermine  and  white  and 
red  from  two  great  gilded  Moorish  masts  at  the  entrance ; 


96  PARIS    IX    '67. 

atifl  insifle  of  that  a  jolly  rich  old  canopy  of  green  silk 
and  gold  (I  wish  I  had  all  the  money  that  cost !)  swung 
from  the  side-standards  and  covered  the  walk,  all  the  way 
from  the  Grande  Porte  to  the  palace  door — not  much  less 
than  a  quarter  of  a  mile ;  and  the  detached  buildings  and 
'  annexes '  in  the  park,  a  little  bit  of  everything  from  '  all 
creation  and  jiart  of  Becket,'  but  half  of  them  ginger- 
breaded  with  gilding,  and  chopped  into  oriental  fragments, 
and  the  other  half  odd  enough  in  shape  to  set  the  eyes 
dancing  like  paper-jacks ;  and  crowds  of  people  fluttering 
about  like  so  many  crows  in  the  biggest  cornfield  in  the 
vrorld — in  the  park,  over  the  bridge,  down  the  quays,  on 
the  little  boats  steaming  up  and  down  the  Seine — every- 
where and  all  over ;  and  away  beyond,  the  stunning  big 
palaces  (the  Louvre  and  the  Tuileries),  stretched  out  like 
so  many  jointed  snakes  with  humps  at  the  joints  ;  and 
Cleopatra's  Needle  (she  must  have  been  a  screaming  old 
seamstress  to  use  that ! — wonder  why  she  didn't  get  a 
sewing-machine?)  looking  like  an  old  Roman  sword, 
point-upward,  in  among  the  white  horses  and  the  fountains 
of  the  Place  de  la  Concorde;  and  the  Madeleine,  my  little 
beauty,  seeming  at  the  distance  so  neat  and  so  bright  that 
it  might  have  been  a  new  toy  brought  home  to  us  babies 
only  that  morning  ;  and  over  behind  the  great  building, 
the  dome  of  the  Invalides  sticking  up  like  a  broken  limb 
with  splints  around  it  (confound  those  scaffoldings ! — what 
did  the  foo-foos  have  them  there  for,  this  year  of  all 
years  ?) ;  and  away  up  the  river,  Notre  Dame  trying  to 
make  itself  seem  nearer  by  looking  like  two  great  piles 
of  houses  heaped  one  on  the  top  of  the  other ;  and — well, 
I  think  that  is  about  all  that  I  remember  just  then,  except 
the  fellows  with  the  wheelbarrows  and  shovels,  working 
away  on  the  Trocadero  Hill.  You  may  not  see  it  in  that 
light.  Gov.;  but  it  seems  to  me  that  that  little  bit  of  de- 
scription isn't  to  be  sneezed  at  by  a  man  with  no  nose,  if 


''TOMMY'S''     VERSION.  97 

it  wan  only  seventeen  that  did  it !  Eh,  what  do  you  say 
to  that,  old  steel  pens  and  foolscap  ?" 

Only  this,  Thomas  —  that  irreverence  towards  people 
beyond  your  own  age  seems  to  be  suspiciously  evident 
again ;  and  that  though  you  are  a  bright  boy,  Thomas,  you 
shouldn't — really  you  shouldn't.  For  Avho  knows  but  you 
may  some  time  go  on  the  Bourse  or  tumble  into  Wall  Street, 
where,  if  they  don't  read  Scripture  much,  or  know  very  well 
what  I  mean,  there  are  bears — bears  that  eat  up  juvenile 
people,  Thomas,  when  they  attempt  to  go  against  the  "  old 
ones."     Proceed,  Thomas. 

"  "Well,  when  we  had  enjoyed  view  enough  from  the 
Trocadero,  we  went  down  the  hill  to  the  Pont  de  Jena, 
through  the  crowd  of  workmen  who  were  just  then  getting 
their  little  flags  in  order,  to  do  their  little  show  before 
Nappy  himself.  There,  at  the  bridge,  was  a  time,  a  high 
old  time,  with  something  to  spare.  Everything  in  the 
shape  of  a  carriage,  a  wagon,  or  a  cart,  was  setting  down 
visitors,  or  carting  them  over  and  dumping  them  out  on 
the  other  side ;  and  everybody  that  couldn't  or  wouldn't 
ride,  was  shambling  along,  walking,  rolling,  dragging, 
getting  over  the  ground  somehow,  but  as  if  they  didn't 
quite  know  where  they  were  going;  all  eyes  on  the  big 
building  ahead,  as  if  there  had  never  been  such  another 
old  boiler  since  creation  (and  you  bet  there  hadn't !),  and 
never  was  going  to  be  such  another  day  until  the  last 
horn  blew.  Well-dressed,  ill-dressed,  scarcely  dressed  at 
all — broadclothed,  bloused,  in  baggy  oriental  costumes ; 
Englishmen  in  tight  trousers  and  short  coats,  with  whisk- 
ers— oh,  my !  such  whiskers — where  are  yon,  lap-dogs'  ears ! 
Our  people,  Americans  (weren't  there  lots  of  them  there, 
though),  with  the  best  hats  of  any,  and  enough  cloth  in 
one  suit  to  do  up  a  whole  family  on  this  side ;  once  in  a 
while  an  out-westerner,  slab-sided  and  rough-faced,  with 
bad  clothes ;  but  oh !  what  a  customer  to  run  foul  of!    And 

5 


98  PARIS    ly    '67. 

then  a  Yankee,  thinner-faced  than  the  other,  and  not  so 
much  meat  on  his  bones ;  but  his  arms  and  legs  all  the 
time  wobbling  as  if  he  was  a  machine  that  had  just  been 
patented  and  wanted  everybody  to  see  him  go!  Here 
and  there  a  nigger,  with  white  eyes  that  made  the  rest  of 
him  blacker  than  charcoal,  and  got  up — oh,  my  stars  and 
garters  ! — weren't  they  got  up,  especially  in  the  way  of 
shirt-collars  and  tight  coats  ?  And  didn't  they  gabble 
French  as  was  French,  especially  the  New  York  darkies  ? 
*  Bong  joor,  mong  amy  ! — how  you  was,  Sara  ?  Ki  yi ! 
Monsus  fine  mornin'.  Allay  voo  ay  la  grand  'Sposition, 
mounseer  ?  Wee,  pardong  —  niiffin  else  !  How's  Jim  ? ' 
That  was  about  the  style  of  it ;  but  don't  you  dare  to 
believe  that  the  niggers  didn't  see  the  ridiculousness  of 
the  thing  better  than  many  of  the  whites  did. 

"  Then  there  would  be  a  pig-tailed  Chinaman,  with  his 
funny  little  eyes  and  parchment  face;  and  a  handsome, 
tall  Arab,  with  his  fine  moustache,  nut-brown  face,  and 
splendid  eyes,  that,  by  George,  would  make  a  fellow  mighty 
careful — wouldn't  they? — how  he  let  him  come  around  his 
girl  too  often,  when  he  hadn't  fine  eyes  and  moustache ! 
And  then  a  black  Turco,  white-turbaned,  with  his  crooked 
Bcimetar  as  broad  as  a  hay-scythe,  his  face  ugly  wrinkles 

and  the  d I's  temper,  and  his  bag-breeches  above   the 

knee  making  up  for  the  stockinged  shanks  and  splay  feet 
below ;  and  a  Persian,  brown,  white-dressed,  and  clean- 
looking,  as  if  they  had  some  of  the  sunshine  of  their  fire- 
worship  still  on  them,  but  ready  to  cut  ofi'your  head,  at  a 
moment's  notice,  with  the  crooked  knife  in  his  girdle ;  and 
a  low-caste  Egyptian,  more  than  half  Ethiopian,  with  no 
more  clothes  than  the  law  allows ;  and  a  copper-colored 
Egyptian  with  Caucasian  face,  high  cap,  and  robes  all  the 
way  down  to  his  feet  (the  abbe  says  that  he  was  a  Copt, 
and  that  his  race  buUt  the  pyramids) ;  and  then  a  big 
Russian,  all  long  beard  and  round  cap,  handsome  enough. 


'' TOMMY'S''     VERSION'.  99 

in  a  "burly  Tray,  but  seeming  to  be  melting  all  the  time 
and  to  want  ice  in  his  boots  ;  then  a  fat  Dutchman,  all 
smell  of  beer,  and  his  pipe  sticking  out  of  his  pocket,  so  that 
his  eyes  could  smoke  if  his  mouth  couldn't ;  and  then  one 
of  our  Indians  from  the  far  west,  fierce-faced,  painted,  and 
greasy-looking,  evidently  wishing  that  he  could  tomahawk 
a  few  of  the  people  who  had  just  been  giving  him  '  fire- 
water.' Noah's  ark  emptied  out,  just  after  the  stoppage  of 
our  second  'flood,'  and  all  the  human  animals  that  had  ever 
been  gathered  in  the  highest  old  menagerie  you  ever  saw! 

"  Everybody  had  his  wife  out,  or  somebody  else's  wife 
• — about  the  same  thing  in  Paris,  only  more  so — so  Count 
Bob  says ;  but  I  must  cut  that,  I  suppose,  or  the  Banker 
will  be  after  me  with  the  wrong  kind  of  '  check'  !  Then 
all  the  beggars  of  Paris,  and  all  the  cripples  from  all  the 
departments — all  the  blind,  all  the  crooked,  all  the  dot- 
and-carry-ones,  on  canes  and  crutches,  out  of  all  the  hos- 
pitals of  Europe.  Police  everywhere,  all  throuo^h  the 
rest,  keeping  a  fellow's  eyes  constantly  changing  from  the 
cocked  hats  and  really  pleasant  quiet  faces  (they  are  not 
the  worst  of  'beaks' — the  sergens  de  ville  :  I  have  had  a 
bout  or  two  with  them,  in  a  quiet  way,  and  they're 
*  human  ')  down  to  the  straight  swords  that  seem  to  belong 
to  the  seams  of  their  trousers,  and  the  little  silver  ships 
(the  arms  of  Paris,  though  without  the  crown)  on  the  tails 
of  their  coats.  A  gay  old  scene,  altogether — don't  you 
believe  it  was  ? — and  wouldn't  yoxi  have  given  something 
(if  you  had  it)  to  have  been  '  there  to  see  ?' 

"  Hallo  ! — away  went  the  bands,  or  rather  their  music. 
Seemed  to  be  all  the  brass  in  the  world,  blown  and  banged 
until  the  very  old  boiler  shivered.  '  Vive  I'Empereur  !' 
some  of  them  shouted.  Why  the  deuce  couldn't  they  ha\  e 
said  it  in  decent  English  and  so  that  they  meant  some- 
thing :  '  Bully  for  old  Nap. !'  for  instance  ? 

**  We  were  still  standing — the  abbe,  and  Fred,  and  I — 


100  PARIS    J  If    '67. 

at  the  Grand  Porte,  where  it  opens  on  the  broad  space  at 
the  Bridge  of  Jena  ;  and  I  soon  found  what  was  the  mat- 
ter. !^Cappy  himself,  wiih  his  head  and  tail  (you  bet  that 
nobs  like  him  have  '  heads '  as  well  as  '  tails  ' — for  don't  the 
chamberlains  and  other  dodgers  go  in  advance  ? — and 
don't  that  make  the  '  head '  of  any  '  old  sarpint '  ?) — Xappy 
himself  was  coming  to  do  his  little  biz.,  in  opening  the 
house  that  was  everything  else  than  ready.  Away  they 
came ;  over  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  up  the  quays  and 
over  the  bridge  they  dashed  like  a  house  afire — a  squadron 
of  officers  of  the  Cent  Gardes  ahead,  and  a  courier  on  a 
racehorse  even  ahead  of  them — the  officers  all  uniform, 
and  tlieir  heads  all  feathers  (wonder  if  it  made  them  'hght- 
headed'?);  then  three  carriages  with  six  horses  each 
(very  fine  horses,  many  of  them,  but  they  couldn't  make 
us  forget  the  cracks  that  tliey  trot  out  at  the  Central  Park 
o'  nice  afternoons — could  they,  Gov.  ?) ;  then  another  cloud 
of  the  '  household  troops '  on  horseback,  with  as  brassy  a 
shine  as  if  they  had  all  been  bronze  statues  in  motion  ; 
and  behind  them  the  great  tail  of  'everybody  and  his 
first  cousin.' 

"  Couldn't  see,  at  the  distance,  of  course,  who  were  in 
the  Imperial  carriages  ;  but  we  could  see  when  they  dashed 
over  the  bridge  and  prepared  to  alight  at  the  Grand  Porte ; 
and  I  can  tell  you  about  some  of  them.  (Haven't  I  a  right 
to  give  the  information  as  my  own,  and  get  paid  for  it — 
even  if  the  abbe  did  point  out  most  of  the  nobs  to  me 
and  tell  me  who  they  were  and  Avhat  they  had  done  ?  Ask 
one  of  your  reporters,  and  see  what  he  will  say). 

"  If  I  am  going  to  stay  in  Paris  any  longer,  I  had  bet- 
ter mention  the  Emperor  and  Empress  first,  hadn't  I  ? 
Should  like  to  put  the  lady  first,  for  I  like  her  best ;  but 
can't  do  it,  you  know  ! — what  would  you  think  of  '  Mrs. 
and  Mr.  Jones '  on  a  reception  card  ? 

♦'Nappy  first,  as  he  stepped  down  from  his  open  coach, 


''TOMMY'S''     YERSIOIT.  101 

witli  the  gold-laced  and  thingamied  outriders,  with  a  squad 
of  officers  all  round  him,  and  yet  'keeping  their  distance.' 
Nappy  isn't  as  young  as  he  was ;  but  the  old  '  Parisianers ' 
(don't  let  your  fellows  print  that  '  parishioners,'  for  they 
don't  go  to  church,  much  !)  they  say  that  he  is  a  better- 
looking  man  now,  than  he  was  years  ago,  since  his  hair 
has  grizzled  and  his  cheeks  fulled  out,  even  if  they  look 
older  and  less  healthy.  He  looks  riper  and  more  human, 
they  say,  if  feebler.  At  all  events,  he  did  not  look  a  bit 
Mephistophelean  that  day,  with  his  full  face  (a  little  bloated 
in  the  lines),  his  sharp  long  moustaches,  gray  eyes  and 
tell-tale  hair, — in  a  brown  overcoat,  dark  vest  and  trousers, 
the  Grand  Cross  of  the  Legion — something  less  than  a  tea- 
plate — on  his  breast,  and  a  solitaire  diamond,  of  about  the 
size  of  a  piece  of  chalk,  serving  him  as  a  breastpin.  I 
don't  much  over-estimate  the  old  fellow  who  has  been  try- 
ing to  do  ?/s,  and  I  don't  say  too  many  soft  things  of  him  ; 
but  I  did  respect  him  that  day,  and  wouldn't  have  asked 
much  to  be  in  his  place.  Believe  me  or  believe  me  not, 
I  did  want  to  be  an  Emperor,  and  that  Emperor,  once 
in  my  life,  and  for  what  the  big  scribblers  call  '  a  brief 
period.' 

"  As  for  the  Empress — she  wore  a  purple  satin  dress, 
long  enough  for  two  to  tread  on  at  once,  and  a  bonnet  to 
match  (not  to  tread  071),  with  a  black  satin  cloak  to  crown 
all  (not  her  head^  though).  She  is  a  screamer,  even  now 
— you  bet  she  is !  Fuller  than  she  used  to  be,  and  older- 
looking,  even  through  her  enamel  (for  she  does  use  the 
'  email ') — so  Count  Bob  says.  May  be  I'm  not  a  little 
touched  around  the  edges,  with  Ler  sweet,  long  face,  her 
pliant  waist,  and  look  of  sorrowful  goodness — Oh,  no!  of 
course  not ;  though  you  needn't  send  this  to  the  Tiiileries, 
for  my  next  ticket  there  might  not  come  by  telegraph  if 
you  did.  The  Prince  Imperial  was  not  with  them — too 
sick,   they   said    (not   the   Imperial    coupU; — the   people, 


102  PARIS    IN    '67. 

stupid  !) ;  but  I've  seen  him,  over  and  often — a  nicish,  gen- 
tlemanly, slight  little  fellow,  of  eleven  or  twelve,  and 
small  for  his  age,  with  a  long  nose,  like  his  mother's,  a 
smile  that  somehow  seems  to  belong  to  low  spirits,  and  an 
indescribable  something  which  seems  to  say:  'Don't  lay 
too  heavy  a  weight  on  me,  good  people,  for  I'm  not  strong 
enough  to  carry  it !'  And  then  one  thinks  of  the  young 
King  of  Rome,  that  I  spoke  about  before,  and  it  doesn't 
cost  much  to  be  spooney  about  the  eyes.  What  are  you 
laughing  at  ?  You  do  such  things  sometimes,  old  frump 
as  you  are — you  know  you  do ! 

'"Who  else?'  You  don't  suppose  that  I  am  going  to 
give  you  a  catalogue,  do  you,  of  the  state  officers  who  at- 
tended on  and  received  my  friend  Nappy  ?  If  you  do, 
you  sUp  up,  that  is  all !  There  were  about  eight  thousand 
of  them,  more  or  less — chamberlains,  and  liveried  valets, 
and  grooms,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  The  abbe  said 
that  the  other  people  in  the  three  carriages  were  Gen- 
eral Rolin,  sharp-faced,  and  gray  as  a  badger ;  Baron 
Genlis,  nothing  in  particular;  the  Duchesse  de  Bassano, 
the  Countess  de  Poez,  and  the  Countess  de  Rayneval — all 
well-enough  looking  girls,  to  anybody  who  had  never  been 
in  America;  two  or  three  other  ladies,  and  two  or  three 
military  nobodies — proud  as  peacocks,  the  last  of  'em,  just 
hecanse  they  were  nobodies. 

"  Plenty  of  people  who  weren't  nobodies,  aud  who  had 
something  more  than  a  title  to  recommend  them,  came  in 
with  the  great  couple — didn't  they,  though  !  It  was  worth 
something  to  have  the  abbe,  who  knows  everything 
French,  and  Fred,  who  knows  everything  English,  point 
them  out  to  me.  Emile  de  Girardin,  the  editor,  eager- 
faced,  thin,  nervous,  and  fidgety ;  Thiers,  the  historian,  with 
a  weazen  fice  ;  George  Sand  (why  the  deuce  do  they  call  a 
woman '  George  ?'),  handsome  as  a  girl,  yet,  and  dressed  like 
one,  if  she  has  wi  itten  long  novels  and  is  (so  the  abbe  says) 


"TOMMY'S''     TERSION.  103 

Madame  Dudevant;  Gustave  Dore  (can't  that  yoimg  par- 
son draw  till  your  hair  stands  on  end  !),  looking  like  a  boy, 
but  pale  and  nervous,  and  as  if  he  was  '  going  it,'  either  at 
work  or  the  other  way;  Rossini  (don't  I  like  the  'Bar- 
biere,'  especially  when  Figaro  sings'Largo  al  factotum  ?'), 
very  old  and  feeble  looking,  in  spite  of  his  dark  wig,  and 
leaning  both  hands  on  his  big-knobbed  cane,  even  in  the 
carriage ;  Liszt,  the  pianist,  with  a  face  like  a  jack-in-the- 
box,  that  somehow  makes  a  fellow  shudder  (wonder  if 
that  is  the  happiness  of  his  becoming  a  priest!) ;  the  Coun- 
tess of  Jersey  (here  Fred  came  in  play),  fit  to  set  any  body 
wild  with  her  English  girl-face  and  blonde  curls ;  and  the 
English  Marquis  Townsheud,  young-lookiug  and  unquiet- 
faced,  as  if  he  wasn't  quite  satisfied  to  be  only  a  Mar- 
quis  " 

He  wasn't,  Tommy :  he  has  since  been  filling  the  honor- 
able position  of  stock-actor  at  the  St.  James  and  other 
leading  theatres — proving  his  "  utility  "  in  that  conclusive 
manner,  after  the  style  of  Hon.  Le"vvis  WLngfield  et  id  genius 
ortine.  The  Marquis  is  "  one  of  the  boys,"  to  copy  your 
own  style.     Tommy,  pass  on  to  the  next. 

"  The  Duchess  de  Morny,  widow  of  the  Emperor's  half- 
brother  (I  believe  that  is  the  relationship,  though  I  am  a 
little  puzzled  sometimes  about  who  is  and  who  is  not  his 
relative),  slender  and  fair,  and  not  looking  a  bit  like  a 
widow ;  a  brace  of  American  gii'ls  in  a  phaeton  together, 
said  to  be  daughters  of  one  of  our  commissioners,  and  if 
they  are,  better  and  handsomer  than  any  other  goods  he 
has  in  charge ;  then  one  or  two  of  our  Kew  York  celebri- 
ties— I'm  not  going  to  make  them  vain  by  naming  them ; 
and 

"  Stop  !  I  have  no  more  time,  and  you  no  more  space, 
for  personal  descriptions.  The  '  trouble  was  beginning,' 
as  they  say  at  some  of  the  minstrels,'  (who  ought  to  have 
come  over  and  made  us  respectable  this  summer,  in  the 


104  PARIS    IN   '67. 

place  of  mere  hop-o'-my-thumbs).  And  a  trouble  it  was 
— no  sardines  in  the  way  of  disturbance — Hail  Columbia 
and  the  Fourth  of  July  in  noise  and  bustle.  Down  off 
the  Trocadero,  where  we  had  been  looking  at  the  others 
and  not  noticing  them,  had  come  a  thousand  or  more  of 
the  bloused  ouvriers  at  work  there,  with  little  tri-color 
flags  stuck  into  their  dirt-carts;  and  they  jammed  the 
whole  space  left  by  the  carriages  in  front  of  the  Grand 
Porte,  cheering  as  if  they  really  loved  the  man  they  feared 
(possibly  hated — I  don't  know),  throwing  up  their  caps 
and  making  themselves  a  jubilant  lot  of  dirty  humbugs 
generally.  Xappy  froze  them  with  a  smile  (as  Fred  says 
that  he  did  old  Haussmann) ;  and  one  unknown  presented 
Mrs.  Nappy — no,  I  mean  the  Empress — with  a  bouquet 
something  smaller  than  a  washerwoman's  basket;  and  she 
made  the  happy  mudsill  who  presented  it  a  fool  for  life, 
by  shooting  him  with  one  of  her  smiles  ('oh,  them 
eyes !'). 

"  And  then  the  workmen  began  yelling  as  if  they  had  a 
new  barricade  and  had  just  shot  somebody  at  it ;  and  the 
other  dirty  two  thousand  on  the  Trocadero  caught  up  the 
shout  about  nothing,  and  helped  them  along ;  and  the  crowd 
on  the  bridge,  and  at  the  Grand  Porte,  and  around  the  big 
boiler,  all  took  a  hand  in,  principally  because  they  had  no 
special  reason  to  halloo  ;  and  a  cannon  banged  away  some- 
where, and  other  cannon  replied  to  it,  away  oyer  at  the  Tuile- 
ries ;  and  three  hundred  bands  of  music  (more  or  less,  again) ! 
struck  up  three  hundred  or  less  of  different  tunes ;  and  in 
the  Exposition  building,  amid  it  all,  you  could  hear  the 
hum  as  somebody  let  on  the  steam  and  set  all  the  wheels 
and  spindles  and  other  thingamys  Avhirring  away  to  infin- 
itesimal smash ;  and,  to  cut  a  long  story  short,  things  were 
lively  generally,  and  the  imperial  bird  (not  the  eagle — the 
one  that  laid  the  golden  eg^)  held  a  highly  elevated  posi- 
tion at  that  particular  moment.     IIow's  that,  Gov.,  I  ask 


''TOMMY'S''     VERSION.  105 

you  again — anything  neat  and  appropriate  in  the  way  of 
verbal  daguerreotypes  ? 

"  Nappy  and  his  immediate  suite  were  at  length  inside 
the  great  Exposition  building.  I  am  glad  that  I  have  got 
him  there  at  last,  as  no  doubt  he  was  at  that  moment ;  for 
I  am  tired — aren't  you  ?  Now  to  the  reception,  which  I 
must  give  what  the  girls  (they  say)  give  their  hair  when 
too  lazy  to  comb  it — 'a  sleek  and  a  promise;'  for  I  am  a 
second  time  overrunning  space,  and  how  are  you  oft'  for 
patience  ? 

"  Well,  it  was  at  the  grand  entrance,  opposite  the  Grand 
Porte,  near  to  where  that  entrance  cuts  the  gallery  running 
round  the  outside  circle  (can  you  understand  all  that  ?  if 
not,  you  know  the  alternative !)'  that  the  reception  was 
given  to  the  Emperor,  he  being  made  the  visitor  for  the 
time,  where  he  should  have  been  the  host !  That  is  my 
idea,  any  way  ;  though  perhaps  there  being  a  '  host  of  peo- 
ple '  prevented  any  other  being  necessary.  But  of  course 
you  wish  to  know  who  received  him  ;  and  as  the  abbe 
and  Count  Bob  and  I '  took  precedence  '  of  '  His  Imperial 
Majesty,'  who  should  know  better  than  we  ? 

"  We  all  expected  to  see  the  fat,  jolly  face  of  Pi'ince 
Napoleon  there  ;  for  who  had  a  better  right  than  he  who 
had  done  so  much  to  give  the  Exposition  shape  and  suc- 
cess ?  He  was  not  there ;  another  fat  face  (and  a  le=-s  no- 
table one,  so  the  abbe  said),  was  there  in  its  place — that 
of  Prince  Murat,  dumpy,  gray,  idle-looking,  and  not  very 
heavy  papers  in  the  way  of  principality.  Near  him  was 
the  Duke  of  Leuchtenberg,  representing  the  Czar  of  Rus- 
sia ;  he  (the  duke,  not  the  Czar — confound  this  tanglhig 
language),  a  tall,  pleasant  faced  young  man,  no  more  a 
Russian  than  a  Cossack,  but,  if  my  memory  does'nt  play 
tricks,  a  relative  of  the  Emperor,  through  his  mother,  and 
only  connected  with  the  Czar  by  marriage.  Then  the 
Prince  of  Orange,  who  will  some  day  be  King  of  Holland, 


106  PAEIS    IN   '67. 

though  he  had  better  wake  up  first,  or  he  won't  know  it ; 
and  the  Count  of  Flanders,  heir-presumptive  (I  think)  to 
the  throne  of  Belgium,  his  pleasant  and  wide-awake  Co- 
burg  face  showing  that  Belgium  still  has  the  best  of  it  in 
the  division  of  the  two  countries.  Then  two  more  ladies 
whom  you  will  like  to  hear  something  about — the  Prin- 
cess Mathilde,  elderly,  plain-looking,  and  not  a  bit  ginger- 
breaded,  without  a  suspicion  of  her  evening  parties,  bad 
hours,  and  jolly  reputation — and  sweet  little  blonde  Anna 
Murat  de  Mouchy,  the  pet  kitten  (that's  what  Count  Bob 
says)  of  all  Paris  and  the  court. 

"  Then,  a  little  further  on,  some  people  yet  a  little  more 
'official'  received  old  Xappy  over  again,  just  as  if  he  was 
being  continually  '  paid  out '  and  '  taken  in.'  (Wonder  if 
he  is.)  Rouher,  prime  minister,  stony-faced,  broad-figured, 
and  kind-looking;  gray  old  Marshal  Yaillant,  with  a  face 
looking  like  a  monitor  just  out  of  battle,  and  (his  breast, 
not  his  face)  speckled  all  over  with  decorations ;  and  over- 
shadowing them  as  if  they  were  pigmies  and  he  was  a 
tree  that  they  stood  under,  Fred's  tall  friend,  Baron 
Haussraann,  with  a  face  in  which  the  keen  fox  of  command 
seemed  to  be  all  the  time  trying  to  peep  out  through  the 
quiet  lamb  of  habitual  subserviency  ;  and  Pietri,  the  other 
prefect — hitn  of  police  (whom  the  emperor  complimented) ; 
and  Duruy,  who  looks  after  the  schools  (such  as  they  are ! 
you  ought  to  know  what  Count  Bob  says  of  them!) ;  and 
a  few  others  whom  I  don't  mention,  for  the  double  reason 
that  I  don't  know  anything  about  them,  and  that  they 
don't  amount  to  a  row  of  pins! 

"  Did  I  tell  you  that  I  was  almost  done  ?  No  ? — then  I 
am  nearer  '  done  '  than  any  '  biftek '  that  I  have  had  since 
I  came  to  this  gay  old  land  of  raw-meat,  wine  cheaper 
than  water,  and  bread  by  the  yard.  When  you  have  the 
story  of  the  receptions,  you  have  almost  that  of  what  they 
called  the  '  Opening.'     I  have  before  spoken  of  the  liigh 


''TOMMY'S''     VERSION'.  107 

gallery,  railed  on  both  sides,  running  around  tlie  outside 
circle.  Around  this  gallery,  just  completed,  and  with  no 
goods  on  it,  except  a  few  of  the  oriental  thingamys,  to 
break  the  contour,  stood  a  dozen  or  less  of  circular  pavil- 
ions, over  or  nearly  over  the  national  departments  below  ; 
and  at  each  of  them  stood  the  official  commissioners  from 
a  particular  nation,  very  much  got  up  in  evening  dress  and 
white  kids,  except  such  as  wore  oriental  frippery  and  noth- 
ings, and  looking,  as  I  fancied,  about  as  happy  and  at  their 
ease  as  so  many  country  boys  rammed  into  tail-coats  and 
tight  gloves,  aud  sent  to  a  full-dress  party.  Ornamental 
people,  they  are,  you  bet ;  and  perhaps  most  of  the  over- 
weighted commissioners  weren't  figure-heads  of  elegance ! 
At  all  events,  many  of  them  didn't  know  what  to  do  with 
their  hands  ;  some  of  them  stared  through  the  building  at 
some  other  one  away  off  in  the  world  of  imagination,  and 
the  balance  twiddled  their  thumbs  to  show  that  they  were 
not  embarrassed — oh,  no  ! 

"  It  was  along  and  among  these  groups  of  commissioner 
botherations  from  the  different  countries,  that  Nappy  and 
his  cava  sj)osa,  with  their  head  and  tail,  made  their  little 
promenade  of  about  a  mile,  stopping  at  each  station  to  do 
a  little  shaking  hands,  to  have  a  little  very  bad  French 
fired  at  them  in  the  way  of  addresses  and  felicitations,  and 
to  pretend  to  examine  the  whirling  wheels  and, half- 
unpacked  things  below ;  while  the  music  brayed  and 
squealed,  the  wheels  and  spindles  buzzed  and  hummed,  the 
hammers  of  the  workmen  banged  and  clashed ;  people 
shouted  and  cheered  at  the  wrong  times ;  tuft-hunters 
made  fools  of  themselves  in  trying  to  force  for  a  moment 
into  an  imperial  presence  and  notice  ;  quiet  and  dry  peo- 
ple smiled  loudly  in  corners  ;  and  a  crowd  that  would  have 
made  an  unit  of  the  locusts  of  Egypt  I'ushed  along  behind, 
rear  enough  to  have  crushed  off  the  'tail'  of  the  cortege 
close  to  the  roots,  had  that  '  tail '  been  a  real  one  of  flesh 


108  PARIS    IN   '6  7. 

and  fur,  or  even  of  silk  or  merino.  The  Eemperor  tried  to 
be  friendly  everywhere,  but  seemed  to  me  to  be  stiff,  bored, 
and  distrait ;  the  Empress  smiled  sweetly  on  everybody, 
yet  her  smiles  looked  hollow  and  raoonlighty,  for  she  was, 
no  doubt,  thinking  of  Josephine  and  the  sick  little  Prince 
Imperial ;  and  so,  above  such  a  scene,  below,  as  you  may 
stake  your  valuable  existence  that  no  man  ever  saw  before, 
and  down  amid  the  half-unpacked  boxes,  and  among  hang- 
ing shelves,  and  statues  uuerected,  and  wealth  run  mad, 
and  splendor  in  a  worse  mess  than  nature  was  when  Satan 
(the  first  Mephistopheles ;  you  know  they  call  Nappy  the 
second)  went  '  floundering  over  chaos  ' — so  the  round  was 
made,  the  Opening  accomplished,  and  the  show  came  to  an 
end. 

"  You  will  expect  me  to  say  something  of  the  United 
States  Commissioners  especially,  and  how  they  comported 
themselves.  Don't  you  wish  I  might!  They  were  a  terri- 
bly mixed  up  lot,  about  two  to  each  article  on  exhibition, 
and  some  of  the  best  and  some  of  the  worst  that  could 
have  been  selected.  '  Who  were  the  best  and  who  were 
the  worst  ?'  Discover  that  for  yourself,  by  what  you  know 
of  the  people  and  the  dailies  tell  of  the  names.  I  know 
that  Dr.  Evans  got  the  sweetest  and  the  softest  smile  from 
the  Empress  (poor  old  girl ! — she  probably  has  good  reason 

to  be  fond  of  doctors  !) ;  that reddened  like 

a  schoolboy ; seemed  to  have  stolen  some- 
thing, without  quite  time  to  hide  it  away ; 

kept  his  lips  going  all  the  while,  as  if  he  wished  to  say 

something  and   dared  not ;   and split  his 

new  white  gloves  all  to  smithereens  in  the  effort  to  applaud 
BO  that  the  imperial  ears  might  hear  him.  Ask  those  who 
were  present,  and  pick  out  the  personalities  at  your  leisure. 

"Nothing  else  worth  mentioning,  even  if  I  haven't  men- 
tioned half.  They  all  lived  through  it.  It  didn't  rain,  all 
day;  so  that  I  have  nQ  means  of  knowing  whether  Mad- 


''TOMMY'S''     VERSION'.  109 

ame  Haussmann  sent  home  Eugenie's  umbrella,  Neither 
do  I  know  whether,  as  Fred  alleged,  one  of  the  Japanese 
Commissioners  committed  hari-kari  as  part  of  the  official 
programme,  and  had  to  be  taken  up  and  carried  away  in 
a  basket ;  and  a  Yankee  clock-maker  sold  a  seven-day  patent- 
lever  to  the  Duke  de  Leuchtenberg,  right  under  the  nose  of 
the  Emperor,  and  in  the  midst  of  his  speeches  ;  and  a  Turk- 
ish Pasha  eloped  with  three  frail  beauties  to  replenish  his 
harem ;  and  a  North  American  Indian  scalped  one  of  the 
Empress's  maids  of  honor,  and  bore  the  trophy  away  to  his 
wigwam  in  the  Champ  de  Mars.  All  this  may  have 
occurred ;  I  didn't  see  it ;  but  then  I  didn't  see  a  good 
many  things,  you  know  !  I  do  know  that  the  Great  Expo- 
sition was  open  ;  that  my  old  Nappy  and  his  handsome 
half,  the  work  done,  first  lunched  at  the  Imperial  pagoda 
that  they  call  a  '  pavilion,'  and  then  went  back  to  the  Tuil- 
eries,  happy,  with  bad  headaches  and  the  proud  conscious- 
ness that  they  had  inaugurated  the  biggest  thing  out,  as 
well  as  the  biggest  thing  in  ! 

"  There,  Gov.,  that  is  the  whole  story,  told  my  way. 
Does  it  suit  ?  I  hope  so,  for  you  are  not  likely  to  get 
another  of  that  sort.  As  for  the  things  that  happened 
afterward,  ask  anybody  else,  or  tell  what  you  have  seen 
yourself     I  am  tired  ;  besides.  Count  Bob  and  I  have  a 

little  appointment  at ,  well,  never  mind  ichere  Count 

Bob  and  I  have  our  little  appointment.  Addlo  mio!  as 
they  say  at  the  opera.  My  bankers  (not  the  Banker)  are 
John  Munroe  &  Co.,  No.  7  Rue  Scribe  (clever  fellows, 
who  keep  an  American  reading  room  and  take  care  of 
American  letters,  as  well  as  cash  drafts  and  change  money 
for  us)  ;  and  I  don't  care  how  soon  you  communicate  with 
them,  financially.  Once  iuoyq,  addlo  mio  carol  'May 
your  shadow  never  be  less,'  as  my  friend  the  Bey  of  Tunis 
originally  remarks ;  and  the  Lord  knows  that  it  needn't 
be  larger  than  it  was  the  last  time  I  saw  you ! " 


110  PARIS    I2f   '67. 

To  which  the  Governor  only  takes  occasion  to  remark 
that  the  world  progresses,  and  to  add,  "  Good  by, 
Tommy."  * 

*  p.  S. — While  this  volume  ■was  in  press,  another  letter  was  received  from  the 
youngster,  containing  a  brief  but  important  communicution.  and  one  showing  how 
■wise  was  my  hist  remark — how  very  fast  we  are  moving.  It  was  nothing  less  than 
a  conundrum  of  this  atrocious  character:  '"Why  is  my  friend  Nappy,  whenever  he 
appears  in  public,  like  poor  Artemus  Ward  used  to  be ?  Dye  give  it  up?  Because 
he  is  always  expected  to  '  speak  a  peace.' "  Tommy  adds,  '•  How's  that  ?  "  I  decline 
to  answer.  I  may  publish  the  experiment  on  public  patience,  but  I  must  be  excused 
from  commentiug  upon  it. 


THE  GREAT  EXPOSITION  BUILDING— PRINCIPALLY 
WITHOUT. 

The  location  of  the  Champ  de  Mars  having  been  briefly 
and  hurriedly  indicated,  and  its  historical  associations 
glanced  at,  a  much  more  extended  and  difficult  task  re- 
mains, in  the  attempt  to  convey  to  eyes  that  have  neither 
looked  upon  it  actually  nor  pictorially,  any  idea  of  the 
great  building  and  its  surroundings,  already,  within  the 
limited  time  since  their  erection,  visited  and  commented 
upon  by  more  persons  than  have  ever  gazed,  within  the 
same  space,  upon  any  single  work  from  the  hand  of  man. 

To  describe  at  all  intelligibly,  the  most  colossal  of 
buildings,  may  well  be  held  the  most  colossal  of  tasks, 
and  a  modest  man  would  shrink  from  the  effort.  The 
Governor,  whatever  his  other  weaknesses,  is  not  modest — 
at  least  he  has  failed  to  convey  the  general  impression  that 
he  is  so ;  and  yet  he  pauses  and  hesitates. 

"  Oh,  yes !  your  pictures  and  descriptions  are  all  very 
well,  to  those  who  have  seen  the  reality  and  only  need 
them  as  reminders,  but  they  don't  amount  to  thaf''  (with  a 
snap  of  the  fingers)  "to  us  who  have  not  seen  it  at  all." 
So  said  a  stay-at-home  lady  to  me  the  other  day,  when  I 
was  "  trying  it  on ; "  and  I  am  somewhat  painfully  appre- 
hensive that  she  was  as  correct  as  bitter.  Nevertheless, 
as  we  always  say  when  we  have  been  checked  or  puzzled, 
but  not  conquered 

The  Champ  de  Mars,  as  has  already  been  mentioned. 


112  PARIS    IK    '67. 

covers  an  area  of  sometliing  more  than  one  hundred  acres. 
The  Exjiosition  building  docs  not  appear  to  stand  in  the 
middle  of  it,  but  really  does  so,  having  its  length  with  the 
long  direction  of  the  field,  its  shape  that  of  a  parallelogram 
of  fi>ur  by  five,  with  the  corners  widely  rounded  off,  and 
the  general  effect  that  of  a  very  wide  oval,  which  it  is  not, 
owing  to  the  flattening  of  the  extreme  circumferences. 
The  length  of  the  building  is  something  over  fifteen  hun- 
dred feet  (seven  and  a-half  ordinary  blocks  of  a  New 
York  street — say  from  Tompkins  Market,  upper  side,  to 
the  upper  end  of  the  Academy  of  Music) ;  and  its  ^vidth 
is  about  twelve  hundred  and  fifty  feet  (or  from  Broadway 
to  First  Avenue,  at  the  same  portion  of  the  city) ;  the  area 
occupied  being  about  thirty-five  acres  of  the  whole  one 
hundred. 

If  this  immense  space  was  covered  by  a  building^  prop- 
erly so  called,  all  the  erections  of  ancient  and  modern 
times  would  be  dwarfed  into  absolute  insignificance — for 
St.  Peter's,  St.  Paul's,  the  Duorao  of  Milan,  and  the  Stras- 
bourg Cathedral,  could  all  be  hidden  away  in  it.  But, 
tmfortunately  for  the  cause  of  architectural  art,,  though 
fortunately  for  the  practical  and  the  useful,  the  iitile  has 
been  more  consulted  than  the  didce  in  planning  and  ar- 
ranging this  building  that  is  not  a  building — this  magni- 
ficent covered  yard  or  shed. 

In  all  previous  international  exhibitions,  the  building 
has  been  almost  as  much,  and  quite  as  much  considered, 
as  the  collection.  In  the  English  one  of  1851,  while  Prince 
Albert  and  his  coadjutors  arranged  the  one,  Mr.  Paxton 
(afterwards  and  for  that  very  service  Sir  Joseph),  looked 
after  the  other  quite  as  successfully;  and  the  "Great 
Exhibition  Building  in  Hyde  Park  "  had  nearly  as  many 
columns  of  admiring  comment  bestowed  upon  it  as  all  the 
industrial  and  art  treasures  there  gathered.  Glass  and 
iron  were  just  being  apotheosized  in  connection,  and  the 


TEE    EXPOSITION-    BUILDING.        113 

really  great  architectural  genius  of  Chats-worth  came  near 
to  overshadowing  even  McCormick's  reaper  and  the 
yacht  America,  And  in  connection  with  the  building 
the  English  have  retained  the  same  fact  and  idea;  for 
to-day,  marred  as  it  is  by  the  fire  which  a  year  and  a-half 
ago  destroyed  one  entire  end,  the  Crystal  Palace  at  Syden- 
ham— enlargement  of  that  in  Hyde  Park — is  more  of  a 
wonder  of  beauty,  and  a  subject  of  conversational  interest 
to  visitors,  than  all  the  marvels  of  nature  and  art  gathered 
within  its  mammoth  compass. 

The  same  feature  marked  the  American  Exhibition  of 
1853,  second  on  the  list,  however  inconsiderable  beside 
that  of  1851.  Beauty  in  building  was  quite  as  much  con- 
sidered as  size  or  convenience ;  and  when,  after  the  rejec- 
tion of  the  plans  of  Sir  Joseph  Paxton,  Mr.  Downing,  and 
others,  Messrs.  Carstensen  and  Gildemeister  laid  their 
plans  for  the  work,  they  were  quite  as  evidently  arranging 
for  a  "  thing  of  beauty  "  as  for  what  Elihu  Burritt  called 
it — "  the  manger-cradle  of  labor."  They  succeeded  better 
in  that  regard  than  did  the  managers  in  arranging  an 
exhibition;  and  till  the  day  of  its  unfortunate  destruction, 
the  Xew  York  Crystal  Palace  stood  like  a  colossal  soap- 
bubble  that  had  suddenly  alighted  on  the  earth,  not  too 
convenient  and  always  unsubstantial,  but  an  advance  even 
upon  Paxton — one  of  the  loveliest  creations  in  airy  archi- 
tecture that  ever  sprung  from  human  brain  and  hand. 

The  first  French  Exposition,  again,  had  many  of  the 
same  features.  In  portions  far  more  solid  than  its  prede- 
cessors, the  Palais  d'Industrie  in  the  Champs  Elysees  has 
the  same  inconveniences  for  the  sake  of  height  and  dignity, 
observable  in  both  the  English  and  American.  Far  more 
costly  than  the  Hyde  Park  Sydenham  Palace,  and  only 
second  to  it  in  outer  effect,  the  Palais  d'Industrie  stands 
to-day,  and  will  no  doubt  long  remain,  a  glorious  reminder 
of  the  earlier  days  of  international  exhibitions,  and  the 


lU  PARIS    IS    '67. 

theatre  of  some  of  the  most  splendid  spectacles  of  that  of 
the  current  year, — but  as  the  central  scene  and  figure  of  an 
Exposition  like  that  of  1867,  as  antiquated  as  one  of  the 
pyramids — so  fast  do  we  travel,  lately,  not  only  in  achieving 
the  new,  but  in  setting  aside  the  old ! 

It  has  already  been  suggested  that  the  Exposition  Build- 
ing is  more  a  covered  yard  than  a  building  proper.  This 
involves,  of  course,  the  entire  absence  of  any  pretence  to 
architectural  dignity  or  proportion  ;  and  so  much  wUl  be 
conceded,  with  reference  to  the  structure  itself,  on  all  hands. 
Some  of  the  epithets  bestowed  by  those  thoroughly  familiar 
with  it  will  illustrate  this  fact,  and  possibly  convey  a  little 
idea  in  addition. 

The  Emperor,  as  alleged,  looked  upon  the  affair,  when 
nearly  finished,  very  much  as  Frankenstein  may  have  gazed 
upon  the  monster  he  had  created,  or  as  the  child  believed 
that  God  must  have  contemplated  the  first  elephant — with 
a  shade  of  tremor ;  and  forestalled  after-ridicule  by  naming 
it  "  the  great  gasometer  " — a  structure  to  which  it  cer- 
tainly bears  some  resemblance,  in  its  circular  form,  the 
thinness  and  superior  height  of  the  outer  circle  to  anything 
within,  and  the  consequent  appearance  of  a  mere  wall  or 
shell.  Says  St.  Edward  (of  my  French  experiences  of 
1865),  in  a  warning  letter  of  May :  "  The  Exposition  Build- 
ing is  as  flat  as  a  pancake,  as  sprawling  as  a  fellow  just 
under  the  table  with  three  bottles,  and  about  July  will  be 
as  hot  and  xmcomfortable  as  an  oven."  (Except  once  or 
twice,  for  an  hour  or  two,  the  prophecy  lacked  fulfillment ; 
the  building  was  rarely  hot  to  discomfort.) 

One  of  the  very  best  of  the  American  Parisian  corres- 
pondents ("  C.  B.  S.,"  of  the  New  York  Daily  Times, 
whom  I  may  again  have  more  than  one  occasion  to  quote) 
hits  it  ludicrously  off,  more  in  effects  than  in  shape,  imme- 
diately after  the  opening:  "The  building  itself  *  *  is 
a  combination  of  railroad-station  and  bazaar — what  is  not 


THE    EXPOSITION    BUILDING.       115 

refreshment-room  being  shop.  You  lose  your  way  with 
great  facility,  and  recover  bearings  by  going  in  any  given 
direction  and  then  working  out  of  it.  The  advantages  for 
taking  cold  are  remarkable.  At  every  corner  there  is  an 
east  wind  and  a  i^oliceman.  Both  are  attentive."  There 
is  real  description,  however,  in  what  follows:  "  There  is  an 
outside  garden  and  an  inside  garden.  The  various  depart- 
ments radiate  from  the  latter,  expanding  fan-like  for  each 
nationality.  The  part  allotted  to  the  United  States  is 
somewhat  more  than  a  sandwich  and  not  quite  a  slice. 
Where  the  oval  is  smallest,  it  looks  like  a  passage ;  then 
it  assumes  the  proportions  of  a  closet,  and  so  slips  easily 
to  the  size  of  a  workshop,  where  we  ["  C.  B.  S."  is  a  U.  S. 
Commissioner]  hope  to  make  some  striking  effects." 

A  droll  contributor  to  Harper'' s  WeeJcly  comes  nearer  to 
the  truth  than  he  knows,  in  the  following  bit  of  atrocity : 
"  The  shaj^e  of  the  building  is,  as  you  are  aware,  round ; 
except  the  square  part,  which  is  oblong.  For  fear  some  of 
your  readers  may  not  fully  understand  its  construction,  I 
will  be  more  explicit.  Thus :  take  an  ordinary  link  of 
sausage  and  lay  it  flat  on  a  table  ;  then  take  another  link 
large  enough  to  enclose  the  first  link ;  then  take  another 
still  larger ;  and  keep  on  taking  them  until  you  have 
sausages  enough — and  there  it  is,  simple  enough.  The 
space  between  each  of  the  links  as  they  are  laid  in  a  nest, 
one  inside  the  other,  is  the  aisles ;  and  all  the  curious 
things  and  stuff  you  see  in  walking  through  the  aisles  is 
your  sausage.  The  avenues  cut  the  sausage  up  into  pieces, 
the  inside  ones  into  mouthfuls,  so  to  speak,  and  of  course 
they  get  larger  as  you  go  out  to  the  circumference." 
Allow  the  outside  link  to  be  of  much  stouter  proportions 
than  the  others — say  a  Bologna  beside  the  ordinary  canine 
and  feline  mixture  known  in  American  markets  as  "  co<m- 
try  sausage  " — and  some  aid  will  really  have  been  given  to 
understanding  the  architectural  novelty. 


116  PARIS   IN   '67. 

But  what,  in  plain  earnest,  is  the  Great  Exposition 
Building  really  like,  all  this  Avhile  ?  And  what  is  it,  as  to 
intent,  arrangement,  and  capacity  ?  Not  one  who  has  been 
present  at  the  Exposition  but  feels  himself  quite  capable 
of  answering  at  once  and  clearly  ;  very  few,  it  is  probable, 
who  would  not  succeed  about  as  well  as  our  English  friend 
in  giving  the  whereabouts  of  the  Champ  de  Mars,  and 
explain  moi'e  or  less  in  this  lucid  manner :  "  What  is  it 
like  ?  Oh,  that  is  easy  enough  explained,  you  know. 
You  see,  there  is  a  beastly  great  square  building — no,  it  is 
round — no,  it  is  'arf-and-'arf — that's  it,  you  know.  And 
then  there  is  another  one  inside  of  it,  or  outside  of  it, 
whichever  you  like ;  and  another  one  inside  or  outside  of 
that ;  and  you  cut  across  from  one  to  another,  and  there  is 
the  bloodiest  quantity  of  all  kinds  of  things  there,  and 
don't  you  see — that's  the  Exposition." 

For  the  building,  as  it  is,  there  seem  to  be  four  persons 
more  or  less  responsible.  "  First,  in  honor  as  in  place  "  (to 
quote  Wilfred,  of  Ivanhoe),  the  Emperor,  who  appears  to 
have  conceived  the  original  idea  of  a  building  which  should, 
as  he  said,  "  contain  all  the  wares  of  the  world,"  while 
avoiding  that  inconvenience  of  lifting  awkward  weights  to 
second  stories,  and  preventing  that  tiring  of  the  limbs  of 
visitors  from  constantly  ascending  and  descending  stair- 
cases, inevitable  from  the  shapes  of  previous  exhibitionary 
buildings.  "  All  on  one  floor,  and  no  confounded  stall's  !" 
as  some  of  the  good  housewives  are  said  to  prefer  their 
mansions  in  sections  where  land  for  extended  ground-floors 
is  plenty  and  cheap,  and  where  the  personal  doing  of  work 
elsewhere  intrusted  to  servants,  makes  the  appreciation  of 
"leg- weariness"  more  general.  The  material  and  general 
shape  of  the  building  are  also  understood  to  be  the  result 
of  the  Emperor's  ruminations  on  the  erections  of  Sir  Joseph 
Paxton,  combined  with  his  own  experience  in  the  Palais 
d'Industrie. 


THE    EXPOSITION    BUILDING.       117 

Prince  Napoleon,  originally  spoken  of  as  the  head  of  the 
enterprise,  and  Chief  of  the  Imperial  Commission,  but  for 
some  reason  kept  in  the  backgromid  throughout — Prince 
Napoleon  is  said  to  have  devised  the  plan  of  the  transverse 
arrangement  of  States,  through  which  the  orange  (to 
change  a  figure)  has  been  divided  into  unequal  slices  from 
seeds  to  rind,  and  appropriated  between  one  and  another  ; 
and  the  circular  arrangement  of  goods,  through  which  the 
promenader  following  one  circle  has  the  opportunity  of 
comparing  most  of  the  works  of  different  nations  in  the 
same  line  of  industry  or  art. 

After  the  Prince,  if  not  in  advance  of  him,  came  Baron 
Haussmann  (lately  elevated  to  the  dignity  of  having  a  boule- 
vard in  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain  named  after  him).  Chief 
of  the  Bureau  de  Demolition  as  Prefect  of  the  Seine,  and 
the  Emperor's  right-hand  man  in  most  of  the  great  works 
of  the  past  few  years — and  Mons.  Le  Play,  an  unofficial 
political  economist,  with  marked  executive  ability,  who  has 
been  aiding  and  abetting  Baron  Haussmann  throughout. 
Between  the  two,  or  three,  or  foui*,  they  have  swamped 
the  engineers  and  actual  architects,  whose  names  have  not 
much  better  chance  of  ever  being  known  to  the  world  than 
has  that  of  tlie  old  Roman  master-mason  who  hoisted  the 
mighty  bulk  of  what  is  known  as  "  Trajan's  Column." 

Glass  and  iron,  of  course,  play  a  part  in  the  great  Expo- 
sition Building  only  second  to  that  which  they  played  at 
Hyde  Park,  and  are  now  playing  at  Sydenham.  It  is  a 
secondary  part,  however  ;  for  the  outer  circle  has  its  bases 
and  foundations  laid  in  stone,  and  so  has  the  innermost  of 
all,  leading  to  a  suspicion  hereafter  to  be  noticed,  of  an 
intended  permanency  for  at  least  some  portions  of  the 
erection.  The  inner  portions  are  of  glass,  wood  and  iron 
only,  with  roofs  of  glass  that  are  not  reputed  to  be  too 
strong,  and  that  certainly  suggest  only  transient  use. 

The  shape  of  the  building  has  already  been  conveyed,  so 


118  PARIS    ly    '6T. 

far  as  practicable.  This  borne  in  mind,  the  next  step  is  to 
guess  (with  Yankee  privilege — no  data  at  hand  for  this) 
at  the  height  of  the  outside  front  or  fa9ade,  uniform 
throughout.  This  may  be  sixty  to  seventy  feet,  as  the  circle 
or  corridor,  which  it  forms  within,  is  eighty-five  feet  high, 
and  one  hundred  and  fifteen  wide.  Less  than  one-third  of 
the  way  up  the  outside,  all  the  way  around,  springs  a  wide 
piazza  roof,  of  corrugated  iron,  with  the  portes,  doors,  and 
windows  in  single  row  below,  while  above,  and  extending 
to  the  eaves  (if  such  things  there  are),  the  portes  rear 
themselves  at  the  entrances,  and  a  row  of  round-headed 
windows,  three  clustered  between  each  of  the  great  sup- 
porting columns,  give  light  to  the  corridor  and  airiness 
to  the  appearance  of  the  structure.  The  roof  of  this 
higher  and  outer  circle,  of  glass  and  iron,  is  a  flat  round 
with  center  ridge,  supported  without  by  openwork  iron 
brackets  or  girders,  extending  from  the  great  columns  out- 
side to  those  inside,  each  girder  square  at  the  top  or  high- 
est point,  and  producing  the  oddest  of  effects  in  the  idea 
that  the  roof  must  be  of  cloth,  leather,  or  some  soft  sub- 
stance, and  that  these  are  hoops  (like  those  of  a  cloth- 
top  wagon),  necessary  to  keep  it  in  shape.  This,  again,  is 
relieved,  however,  by  the  outer  supporting  columns  run- 
ning to  a  considerable  height  above  the  roof,  and  formed 
into  flag-staffs,  from  which  float  and  depend  little  colored 
bannerols,  giving  color  and  lightness  to  what  would  other- 
wise seem  heavy  and  ungraceful,  as  well  as  plain. 

The  inner  circles  are  three  in  number,  all  much  lower 
than  the  outer,  and  all  with  pointed,  pitched  roofs,  broken 
at  the  eaves  for  ventilation ;  of  course,  all  this  unobservable 
from  without,  and  forming  no  part  of  the  ensemble,  near 
or  at  a  distance,  except  from  some  great  elevation.  Across 
these  interior  roofs,  from  the  outer  to  the  inner,  run  trans- 
verse roofs,  corresponding  with  the  twelve  principal  en- 
trances or  cross-galleries ;  three  divergent  at  either  end  of 


THE    EXPOSITION    BUILDIKO .       119 

the  buildinor^  and  three  parallel  at  either  side.  The  inner 
circle  of  the  building,  surrounding  the  Central  Garden, 
though  so  much  lower  than  the  outer,  is  finished  like  it, 
with  round-headed  doors  and  windows,  has  stone  founda- 
tions and  bases,  has  two  banneroUed  flag-staifs  on  an  eleva- 
tion at  either  end  (highest  next  the  Grand  Porte),  and 
seems  likely  to  be  retained  in  the  event  of  any  part  of  the 
erection  finding  permanent  use. 

The  entrances  to  and  through  this  immense  sprawl  of 
structure  naturally  come  next  in  order ;  and  it  is  worthy 
of  note,  as  a  most  commendable  feature,  that  there  are  no 
cuh  de  sac,  or  closed  passages ;  that  through  any  pas- 
sage one  can  go  direct  from  center  to  circumference,  or 
the  reverse ;  that  (in  spite  of  "  C.  B.  S.")  the  facilities  for 
losing  oneself  are  not  remarkable,  but  the  reverse. 

It  will  have  been  noticed  by  careful  readers  or  observ- 
ers, that  the  two  ends  of  the  great  building  front  the  Pont 
de  Jena,  over  the  Seine,  on  the  nortliwest,  and  the  Ecole 
Militaire,  on  the  Avenue  de  la  IMothe  Piquet,  at  the  other 
extremity.  The  Grand  Porte  proper — the  ofiicial  and 
royal  approach — is  at  the  river  entrance,  from  the  Pont  de 
Jena.  The  second  in  importance  is  the  Porte  de  I'Ecole 
Militaire  opposite,  on  the  southeast.  Besides  these,  there 
are  the  Port  Rapp,  the  Porte  Labourdonnaye,  and  the  Porte 
St.  Dominique,  on  the  up-stream,  or  northeastern  side,  on 
the  Avenue  de  la  Bourdonnaye  ;  and  the  Portes  Kleber, 
Sufi'ren  and  Dessaix,  at  the  southwestern,  on  the  Avenue 
Suifren;  while  at  the  four  corners  are  the  Portes  de  la 
Gare,  d'Orsay,  Dupleix,  and  Tourville.  The  entrance  to 
the  grounds  at  all  these  portes,  it  must  be  observed,  is  to 
the  Champ  de  Mars,  all  of  which  is  included  in  the  Expo- 
sition, and  so  to  the  Exposition  itself  without  additional 
charge  or  hindrance.  Only  one  portion  of  the  grounds 
remains  a  "  holy  of  holies "  beyond  this  admission — the 
Pare  Fran^ais  (hereafter  to  be  spoken  of),  with  its  flowers 


120  "    PARIS    IN   '67. 

and  music,  occupying  the  extreme  soutlieastem  comer  of 
the  Champ ;  while  to  certain  of  the  buildings,  scattered 
through  the  grounds,  many  of  them  exhibitionary  in  their 
occupation,  as  the  Chinese,  the  Japanese,  &c.,  half  a  franc 
or  a  franc  is  necessary  as  an  open  sesaine. 


XI. 


THE  GREAT  EXPOSITION  BUILDING— INSIDE  AND 
ARRANGEMENT. 

To  those  who  have  "been  familiar  with  the  buildings  of 
any  of  the  other  great  exhibitions,  few  words  are  neces- 
sary to  convey  the  appearance  of  the  French,  so  far  as  the 
structure  itself  is  concerned.  Iron  and  glass  in  compart- 
ments and  roofing,  and  wood  in  the  arrangement  of  floors 
and  fittings,  produce  nearly  the  same  ensemble  every- 
where; and  the  Exposition  Building  has  nothing  extra- 
ordinary in  those  regards.  At  no  point,  the  collection 
out  of  the  question,  will  it  compare  favorably  with  many 
of  the  vistas  presented  by  the  Sydenham  Palace,  or  by  the 
perished  American  building ;  while  it  is  indisputable  that 
it  is  far  beyond  them  and  all  others  in  the  matter  of  con- 
venience, comprehensiveness,  and  fitness  for  its  use ;  and 
that  another  newspaper  correspondent  (of  the  World)  was 
right  when  he  said  that  "  greater  magnitude,  or  the  im- 
prisonment of  more  space  within  the  walls,  was  probably 
never  before  attained  by  -any  structure  whose  roof  alone 
measures  acres  of  air."  The  collection  included  in  the 
view,  of  course  no  present  or  past  erection  can  for  a  mo- 
ment come  into  competition  with  it ;  but  of  that  hereafter. 

As  has  been  suggested,  there  is  almost  no  "up-stairs" 
to  the  great  building,  only  one  circle  in  which  that  pain- 
ful knee-bending  is  even  once  required.  (Surely  we  have 
nothing  to  do,  just  now,  with  the  malicious  fancy  of  one 
of  the  scribblers,  that  the  Emperor,  wishing  to  walk  often 
c 


122  PARIS    IK   '6  7. 

through  the  Exposition,  and  renally  troubled,  as  are  some 
others  of  his  kidnei/,  chose  to  make  his  disability  less  ap- 
parent by  giving  himself  fewer  stairs  to  chmb,  and  making 
it  seem  that  he  was  thus  careful  for  his  visitors !)  That 
only  *'up-stairs"  is  in  the  outer  circle,  and  runs  nearly 
around  it,  only  broken  at  some  of  the  great  entrances,  in 
the  shape  of  a  central  gallery,  railed  on  either  side,  a  few 
articles  studding  it  in  special  pavilions  of  oriental  coun- 
tries, but  its  principal  charm  lying  in  the  unequaled  view 
from  it  of  the  machinery,  labor-saving  inventions,  and 
works  of  useful  art  to  which  that  great  circle  is  devoted. 
It  need  scarcely  be  said  that  he  who  has  not  "  seen  the 
Exposition  "  from  this  ground  of  vantage  has  not  seen  it 
at  all;  and  that — the  "floor  sights"  of  the  rest  of  the 
building  partially  or  quite  exhausted — this  has  proved  one 
of  the  most  delightful  and  most  fas^hionable  of  promenades. 
From  no  other  point  could  either  the  immense  extent  of 
the  building  within,  the  wilderness  of  machinery,  or  the 
mass  of  manufactures  belonging  to  the  "  useful  arts " 
("  arts  usueV),  be  so  well  seen  and  appreciated. 

It  has  before  been  hinted  that  the  credit  of  origina- 
ting the  plan  of  circular  and  transverse  allotments  of 
States  and  departments,  is  claimed  for  Prince  Napoleon. 
The  claim  is  no  light  one,  for  whomever  set  up  ;  for  when 
the  assertion  has  been  made  that  the  building  is  the  best 
ever  devised  for  the  favorable  exhibition  of  an  immense 
multitude  of  incongruous  articles,  it  next  remains  to  be 
said  that  probably  upon  no  other  plan  could  the  same 
variety  of  articles  be  so  well  placed  for  intelligent  review. 
It  is,  of  course,  somewhat  difficult  to  convey  to  the  eye  and 
the  mind,  without  sight  or  diagram,  the  particular  plan 
pursued ;  and  yet  the  task  must  be  briefly  attempted. 
Perhaps  one  of  the  best  original  cues  may  be  obtained  from 
the  explanation  made  by  the  official  commission,  with 
reference  to  tins  arransrement. 


THE    EXPOSITION    BUILDING.       123 

"The  length  of  the  central  garden,"  say  the  commis- 
sioners, "  is  one  hundred  and  forty-four  metres  by  forty- 
eight  broad.  Tlie  great  difference  between  the  length  and 
the  breadth  is  such  as  to  admit  of  an  equal  distance 
between  each  alley  or  transverse  walk  leading  through  the 
palace  from  the  garden  to  the  park.  These  walks,  whether 
straight  or  radiant,  are  exactly  one  hundred  and  fifty 
metres  in  length.  Whichever  direction  is  taken,  each  of 
these  alleys  traverses  the  circular  galleries  and  gives  a  sur- 
vey along  a  radius  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  metres  of 
the  whole  series  of  productions  exposed  by  any  particular 
nation.  If,  on  the  contrary,  it  is  preferred  to  study  similar 
productions  from  different  countries,  instead  of  following 
their  diversity  in  any  one  country,  the  object  is  attained  by 
abandoning  the  transverse  alleys  and  following  the  cir- 
cular galleries  which  encircle  the  palace  at  different  lati- 
tudes, and  any  one  of  which  will  be  found  as  closely  as 
possible  following  a  corresponding  line  of  production 
throughout  its  whole  length." 

To  this  it  must  be  added  that  the  following  general 
arrangement  (occasionally  a  little  varied  on  account  of 
the  presence  or  absence  of  certain  peculiar  productions 
of  a  given  country)  seems  to  have  been  pursued  in  appro- 
priating the  various  circles,  proceeding  inward.  In  the 
first,  or  great  gallery,  two  divisions,  separated  by  the  raised 
centre  :  outside,  instruments  and  proceeds  of  the  useful 
arts,  in  which  may  be  reckoned  machineries  and  heavy 
fiibrications ;  inside,  unmanufactured  materials.  In  the 
second,  cloths  and  more  delicate  fabrics,  approaching  to 
luxury.  In  the  third  and  fourth,  less  caiefully  divided 
because  less  easy  to  divide,  materials  for  works  of  liberal 
art,  works  of  art  themselves,  books,  and  the  more  notable 
evidences  of  luxurious  progress,  the  great  picture-galleries 
of  the  Exposition  holding  the  very  inner  place  before  pass- 
ing out  into  the  garden. 


12i  PARIS    IN    '67. 

Assuming  that  the  two  explanations  convey  some  proxi- 
mate idea  of  the  general  arrangement,  it  next  remains  to 
ascertain  (what  not  all  the  visitors  to  the  Exposition  may 
have  succeeded  in  ascertaining)  the  proportion  of  space 
allotted  to  each  nation,  and  the  location  in  the  building 
of  the  displays  of  each. 

Dividing  the  building,  then,  by  the  transverse  galleries, 
into  sixteen  segments  of  a  circle,  as  if  a  gigantic  melon 
were  sliced  outward  from  the  core  (the  central  garden), 
and  premising  that  by  the  peculiar  arrangement  the  seg- 
ments each  contain  precisely  the  same  space,  the  fol- 
lowing will  be  very  nearly  the  result  of  the  allotment: 
Commencing  at  the  great  avenue  leading  in  from 
the  Grand  Porte,  and  moving  always  to  the  left, 
France  and  its  colonies  will  be  found  to  hold  seven 
of  the  sixteen  segments.  Next,  the  Low  Countries 
(Holland),  one  third  of  a  segment.  Next,  Belgium, 
two-thirds — this  completing  the  occupation  of  half  the 
building. 

Returning  to  the  place  of  original  departure,  and  this 
time  proceeding  to  the  right,  England  and  her  colonies  hold 
two  and  a-half  segments.  Next,  North  America  (princi- 
pally the  United  States)  has  a  little  more  than  one-third 
and  a  little  less  than  one-half  a  segment.  Then  about  one- 
tenth  of  a  segment  each  is  appropriated  to  Brazil,  South 
America,  Mexico  and  Central  America,  Africa  and  Oceanica, 
China,  Japan  and  Southern  Asia,  Persia  and  Central  Asia, 
and  Turkey.  Then  Russia  has  something  less  than  one- 
third,  and  Italy  something  more.  Then  follow  a  tenth 
each  for  the  Roman  States,  for  the  Danubian  Principalities, 
and  for  Greece.  Portugal  has  an  eighth,  and  Spain  and  its 
colonies  a  seventh.  Sweden  and  Norway  have  a  fourth ; 
Denmark  has  an  eighth  ;  Switzerland  has  a  fourth ;  and 
Austria  follows  with  nearly  a  whole  segment.  Then  the 
Germanic  Confederation  has  one  entire,  and  Prussia  finishes 


THE    EXPOSITION    BUILDING.      125 

with  two-thirds — thus  conchiding  the  occupation  of  the 
remaining  half  of  the  building. 

It  might  well  be  expected  that  something  should  be 
said  of  the  pecAiliar  construction  of  different  sections  of 
the  building,  as  accommodating  different  nationalities  and 
arranged  by  them  at  will.  But  no  limited  space  would 
suffice  for  enlargement  on  this  point,  as  no  limited  obser- 
vation could  supply  the  material.  The  widest  variety  is 
the  rule,  of  course — scarcely  any  two  nations  having  copied 
each  other,  and  some  attempt  at  national  architecture  being 
observable  in  almost  every  instance,  and  the  flags  and 
cognizances  of  diflerent  countries  serving  to  mark  the  dis- 
tinctions yet  more  widely.  As  might  be  supposed,  while 
the  plainer  and  more  solid  nations  of  Eurojoe  have  indulged 
but  slightly  in  what  the  tasteful  call  "  ornament,"  and  the 
plain  "  gingerbread,"  and  while  the  United  States  depart- 
ment seems  to  have  ignored  the  ornamental  entirely,  some 
of  the  more  Southern  European  countries  have  shown  a 
marked  tendency  towards  the  tropical,  and  the  orientals 
supplied  little  else  than  the  beautifully-extravagant  in  form 
and  color.  But  perhaps  no  better  idea  of  these  differences 
can  be  briefly  conveyed,  than  by  quoting  once  more  from 
an  intelligent  Parisian  letter-writer  ("Malakoff")  in  the 
New  York  Times  : — 

"  A  circumstance  which  has  not  been  remarked  upon," 
says  that  writer,  "  because  it  happened  naturally  and 
without  prearrangement,  is  the  confonnity  in  form,  color, 
and  costliness  of  the  different  temporary  constructions  of 
the  Exhibition  to  the  characteristics  of  the  nntion  which 
put  them  up.  These  include  the  cases  for  exhibition,  the 
decoration  of  sections  and  of  the  annexes,  and  the  isolated 
structures  in  the  park.  Thus  the  English  and  American 
departments  are  plain  in  form,  with  no  surplus  decoration, 
and  absolutely  without  method  as  to  color.  Their  depart- 
ments correspond  more  nearly  to  the  Exhibition  building 


126  PARIS    IN   '67. 

itself  than  the  others,  because  it  is  the  nut  and  not  the 
envelope  they  look  after.  The  French  section  is  both 
showy  and  solid,  and  especially  in  good  taste.  Their  colors 
vary.  Austria  shows  gray  and  yellow — the  national  colors 
— apparently  without  thinking  about  it.  Egypt  and  Tunis 
are  recognized  by  their  glaring  colors  and  their  Moorish 
arcades,  covered  with  hieroglyphics.  Italy  is  remarked  by 
its  quiet  but  very  artistic  decorations,  and  by  its  fine 
])aintings  and  statuary.  Turkey  is  prominent  by  its 
arcades  plastered  over  with  pottery,  like  so  much  coarse 
mosaic.  Holland  shows  its  fine  colors  in  a  system  of  orna- 
mentation quite  unique  in  its  kind.  Russia  is  remarked  by 
its  strong  raw  material,  and  its  curious  but  useless  sculp- 
turing in  poplar  wood." 

It  may  scarcely  seem  legitimate  to  speak  of  things  with- 
out as  being  "  inside  ;"  and  yet  no  other  use  is  possible  of 
one  of  the  most  prominent  features,  if  not  one  of  the  most 
important.  "  C.  B.  S."  has  already  been  quoted  as  saying 
that  "  what  is  not  refreshment-room  is  shop ;"  and  to  a 
casual  observer  even  stronger  words  would  seem  in  place ; 
for  the  whole  immediate  outside  of  the  building,  under  the 
portico  and  along  what  would  else  be  the  outer  promenade, 
is  one  endless  succession  of  restaurants  of  all  nations, 
interspersed  with  less-nameable  conveniences  made  neces- 
sary by  the  usages  of  society — this  circle  supplying  every 
national  vice  as  well  as  every  alimentary  demand,  and 
awaking  alternately  gratification  at  their  completeness  of 
arrangement,  and  disgust  at  their  overwhelming  number 
and  prominence,  their  noise,  clatter,  chair-and-table  occu- 
pation of  the  promenade,  and  general  suggestion  that  the 
Exposition  may,  after  all,  have  been  merely  devised  as  a 
speculation  by  the  victualers  and  venders  of  French  wines, 
English  ale,  German  bier,  Turkish  sherbet,  and  American 
(alas  for  the  juxtaposition  !)  gin-slings  and  soda-water! 

One  more  feature,  and  that,  again,  outside  of  the  build- 


THE    EXPOSITION    BUILDING.       127 

ing  at  the  same  time  that  it  is  inside — the  little  pavilion  ia 
the  centre  of  the  Central  Garden,  and  devoted  to  the  ex- 
hibition and  comparison  of  all  the  world's  weights  and 
measures,  as  well  as  of  (what  Americans  cannot  just  now 
examine  without  a  little  tingling  of  the  fingers)  the  coins, 
gold  and  silver,  window-displayed,  of  that  same  all-the- 
world. 

And  yet,  perhaps,  it  may  be  more  legitimately  in  connec- 
tion with  the  building  than  the  grounds  and  their  occu- 
pancy, to  note  that  the  most  brilliant  detail  of  the  whole 
has  been  the  canopy  of  green  silk,  fringed,  and  with  the 
golden  bees  of  the  Bona|)artes  studding  it,  suspended  by 
ropes  from  the  bannerolled  posts  on  either  side,  and  form- 
ing in  fair  weather  a  covering  for  the  grand  entrance,  all 
the  way  from  the  Grand  Porte  proper  to  the  end  of  the 
Pont  de  Jena,  past  the  great  fountains  and  the  Emperor's 
Pavilion,  to  the  corresponding  door  of  the  palace.  Mon- 
archs  only  used  to  walk  under  gilded  canopies ;  things 
have  changed  in  that  regard ;  the  commons  (kings  in  their 
growing  power)  have  during  1867  joined  with  the  mon- 
archs  in  making  gilded  canopies  so  literally  a  thing  of 
every  day,  that  they  scarcely  excited  notice  or  comment. 

A  word,  now,  of  the  intention  and  destiny  of  the  great 
building  thus  imperfectly  indicated  rather  than  described : — 

"  The  earth  has  bubbles,  as  the  water  hath. 
And  these  are  of  them !" 

Felicitously  quoted  from  Shakspeare,  a  London  wit,  when 
the  first  Crystal  Palace  sprung  into  being  in  Hyde  Park  ; 
and  both  the  New  York  Palace  (entirely  burned)  and  that 
at  Sydenham  (partially)  have  proved  how  unsubstantial 
that  kind  of  structure  may  be,  under  certain  conditions. 
Xo  doubt  that  the  body  of  visitors  to  the  French  Exposi- 
tion have  looked  upon  the  erection  as  altogether  transitory ; 
and  the  official  announcements  have  all  conveyed  the  idea 


128  PARIS    IK    '67. 

that,  opening  on  the  first  of  April,  the  Exposition  would 
close  about  seven  months  afterward — on  or  about  the  first 
of  Xovember.  So  it  may  do  ;  it  may  even  be  a  thing  of 
the  past  when  this  meets  its  first  perusal.  But,  first,  it 
seems  highly  probable,  at  the  present  writing,  that  no 
such  close  will  take  place,  or  that  the  shutting-up  will  be 
merely  temporary,  to  permit  the  filling  up  of  vacated 
places ;  and,  second,  even  if  there  should  be  an  entire  close 
of  the  building  for  exhibitionary  purposes,  beyond  a  doubt 
it  is  the  intention  of  the  Emperor  to  remodel  it  as  an  ex- 
tensive manufactory  or  group  of  manufactories,  for  which 
purpose,  so  well  situated,  lighted  and  ventilated,  it  will  be 
found  admirably  adapted. 

In  one  of  the  opening  speeches  (before  alluded  to),  the 
Emperor  is  known  to  have  remarked,  in  substance,  that 
the  Champ  de  Mars  had  been  celebrated  in  the  annals  of 
war,  but  he  intended  to  make  it  even  more  celebrated  in 
those  of  peace.  He  may  merely  have  alluded  to  the  celeb- 
rity certain  to  be  acquired  during  the  summer  of  1867; 
but  he  is  much  more  likely  to  have  been  giving  a  "  dark 
utterance"  to  something  beyond. 

England  has  scarcely  a  greater  boast  in  the  British  Mu- 
seum itself  than  in  the  Crystal  Palace  at  Sydenham ;  and 
the  Emperor  is  aware  of  the  fact.  He  has  a  fancy  for  the 
retention  of  noble  buildings,  as  well  as  their  erection — as 
witness  the  stability  of  the  Palais  d'Industrie.  The  Ex- 
position of  1867  has  been  a  magnificent  moneyed  success,  as 
well  as  a  magnificent  advertisement  of  the  productions  of 
France.  It  would  remain  attractive  for  a  year  or  two  lon- 
ger, even  if  only  national,  and  with  no  crowned  heads  to 
draw  the  crowd.  France  occupies,  as  has  been  shown, 
seven-sixteenths  of  the  covered  space,  and  nearly  one-half 
the  park ;  she  would  probably  be  glad  to  fill  the  whole, 
with  permission  for  occasional  change,  as  at  once  a  display 
and  an  advertisement.     The  Emperor,  if  lie  needs  another 


THE    EXPO^ITIOIf    BUILDING.        129 

Champ  de  Mars,  can  easily  find  it,  or  make  it :  make  it 
with  much  less  trouble  and  expense  than  would  be  needed 
to  restore  the  floral  and  arboricultural  glories  of  the  Pare 
Fraii§ais,  once  destroyed.  He  loves  show,  as  a  great 
agency,  and  readily  adds  to,  but  is  slow  to  detract  from, 
anything  that  can  make  Paris  more  pronouncedly  the  lead- 
ing city  of  the  world. 

The  deductions  from  all  these  are  that  the  great  build- 
ing will  not  be  destroyed,  even  if  remodeled,  and  in  spite 
of  the  rumors  of  its  having  been  sold  to  Prussian  or  Bel- 
gian speculators.  That  probably  visitors  to  Paris  in  18G8, 
or  even  1869,  may  see  most  of  the  features  that  have  made 
the  glory  of  1867,  even  if  they  do  not  meet  a  continued, 
international  exhibition.  And  that,  in  the  alternative,  it 
is  the  Emperor's  intention  to  preserve  the  building  and 
probably  the  park,  and  establish  in  it,  or  in  a  remodeled 
structure  with  the  general  features  retained,  some  immense 
gathering  of  practical  art  and  labor,  calculated  to  shed 
new  luster  on  his  forethought  and  inventive  faculties,  and 
to  astonish  the  world  quite  as  thoroughly  as  the  Exposi- 
tion of  1867  has  at  once  attracted  and  surprised  it.* 

*  During  the  passage  of  this  work  throusrh  the  press,  a  part  of  these  calcalations 
have  been  [iroved  foUacioiis,  in  the  actual  dose  on  the  17th  November.  As  for  the 
other  portion  of  the  prophecy,  "  we  shall  see  what  wo  shall  see." 

6* 


xn. 

THE  PARK  AND  GROUNDS  OF  THE  EXPOSITION. 

Never  has  the  old  axiom,  that  "  the  greater  contains  the 
less,"  been  more  satisfactorily  proved  than  in  the  building 
and  park  of  the  Exposition.  Most  displays,  of  this  char- 
acter, make  the  grounds  surromiding  of  little  comparative 
consequence  ;  not  so  in  the  present  instance,  when  what- 
ever the  charm  of  the  kernel  within,  the  rind  or  husk  is 
found  quite  as  appetizing.  Indeed  it  may  be  said  that 
take  away  the  building  and  its  contents,  and  leave  the 
park,  and  there  would  remain  a  more  attractive  exhibition 
than  that  supplied  by  the  former  without  the  latter.  If 
never  before,  on  the  face  of  the  globe,  there  have  been 
gathered  in  any  one  building  so  many  of  the  products  of 
different  and  very  diverse  nations,  certainly  never  before 
has  even  an  attempt  been  made  at  grouping  the  nations 
themselves,  in  the  architecture  and  even  the  modes  of  liv- 
ing of  many  lands,  as  they  have  here  been  grouped  and 
arranged. 

The  superfices  of  the  Champ  de  Mars  have  already  been 
given  in  this  connection — something  more  than  one  hun- 
dred aci'es — a  fraction  more  than  one  third  of  the  space 
covered  by  the  New  York  Central  Park.  It  is  also  under- 
stood that  the  Champ  de  Mars  was  entirely  a  level,  used 
for  parade  purposes,  and  having  the  veiy  least  of  preten- 
sions to  any  of  the  attractive  features  of  a  public  ground. 
To-day,  in  shrubbery,  flowers,  and   foliage,   and   in   the 


THE    PARK    AN-D     GEOU^^'DS.  131 

scarcely  less  difficult  regard  of  verdure,  it  may  compare 
with  the  royalest  of  the  royal  grounds  of  the  proudest  na- 
tions; to-day,  in  the  structures  which  stud  it,  something 
more  than  half  a  world  has  been  grouped  and  gathered  ; 
and  if  buildings  had  tongues,  an  architectural  Babel  would 
certainly  be  inaugurated,  shaming  the  most  polyglot  of  the 
performances  in  and  around  the  great  building. 

So  far  as  was  consistent  Avith  effect,  the  same  calculating 
taste  has  been  displayed  in  the  ari-angement  of  the  park, 
notable  in  the  interior  of  the  building.  Not  many  arti- 
ficial inequalities  of  surfice  have  been  created,  the  most 
remarkable  of  the  few  being  found  in  the  knolls  and  depres- 
sions of  the  Pare  Francais,  at  the  back  or  southern  end, 
and  in  the  little  retort-shaped  lake  at  the  front  or  north- 
ern, left  of  the  grand  entrance.  In  the  first  circle,  imme- 
diately surrounding  the  building,  and  inside  the  Grand 
Boulevard,  something  like  the  sliape  of  that  structure  has 
been  followed,  and  the  intersecting  alleys  and  walks  par- 
tially correspond  with  the  enti-ances;  but  beyond  that  circle 
a  far  greater  latitude  has  been  taken,  and  the  outer,  while 
mainly  leading  to  the  entrances,  have  all  the  irregularity 
of  shape  desirable  in  anj-thing  else  than  an  old  Holland- 
ische  garden  with  its  squarely-clipped  shrubbery. 

Following  the  course  pursued  in  giving  the  allotment  of 
the  building,  the  various  nationalities  of  the  park  may  be 
thus  indicated  :  Leaving  the  grand  entrance  and  going  to 
the  left,  the  French  grounds  will  be  found  covering  the 
whole  space  thence  around  nearly  half  the  building,  and 
exactly  backing  the  French  department,  to  the  Porte  de 
Tourville  at  the  south-east  corner,  seven-sixteenths  of  the 
whole  being  thus  occupied,  without  as  within.  Adjoining 
this  come,  first  the  Low  Countries  (Holland)  with  one 
thirty-second;  and  next  Belgium  with  another  thirty-sec- 
ond, the  eastern  half  being  thus  completed.  Returning 
again  to  the   grand  entrance,  and  passing  to  the   right, 


132  PARIS    IN'   '67. 

England  has  something  less  than  three-sixteenths,  in  like 
manner  backing  her  share  of  the  building.  Then  follow, 
irregularly,  the  United  States  with  two  considerable  plats, 
perhaps  the  sixth  or  eighth  of  the  space  allotted  to  Eng- 
land (though  quite  enough  for  their  filling) ;  Russia,  Turkey, 
Persia  and  Central  Asia,  China,  Japan  and  Southern  Asia, 
Africa,  Oceanica,  Mexico  and  Central  America,  South  Amer- 
ica generally,  and  Brazil  in  especial,  all  crowded  into  less 
than  the  modicum  of  space  allowed  the  United  States.  Den- 
mark, Sweden,  Xorway,  Spain,  Portugal,  Greece,  the 
Danubian  Principalities,  the  Roman  States  and  Italy,  all 
come  next,  with  space  corresponding  to  the  last-named 
group.  Then  follows  Switzerland,  with  half  the  space 
devoted  to  the  United  States ;  and  then  follow  and  con- 
clude Austria,  with  something  like  a  sixteenth  of  the  whole, 
the  Germanic  Confederation  with  two-sixteenths,  and 
Prussia  with  one — the  Porte  de  I'Ecole  Militaire  being 
thus  again  reached  and  the  circle  completed. 

But  what  pen  shall  portray  or  what  uninstructed  eye 
imagine,  the  magnificent  incongruity  presented  by  the 
peculiar  buildings  of  all  nations,  quaintly  and  irregularly 
grouped,  bowered  in  trees  and  shrubbery,  and  bearing 
little  indication  of  the  suddeness  with  which  they  have 
sprung  into  place  ?  What  except  a  mind  of  corre>;j)ond- 
ing  grasp  and  oddity,  could  have  devised  such  a  grouping 
of  things  pole-wide  in  their  origin  ?  And  what  would 
inevitably  be  the  sensations  of  a  traveler  through  many 
lands,  uninformed  as  to  the  object  of  such  a  conglomera- 
tion, and  finding  himself  stumbling  over  a  Turkish  m-osque 
and  a  Chinese  pagoda,  the  moment  after  he  had  steered 
painfully  clear  of  an  American  school-house  and  disentan- 
gled himself  from  an  English  light-house,  an  Egyptian 
temple  of  the  days  of  Thothmes  III.,  and  a  Swiss  chalet  ? 
Would  he  not  inevitably  imagine  that  some  new  e;irth- 
quake  throe  had  shaken  the  world,  jumbling  climes  into 


TEE    PARK    AND     GROUNDS.  133 

hopeless  confusion,  and  coming  nearer  to  the  dream  of  the 
wild  fellow  who  attempted  to  scatter  the  bones  of  his  enemy 
"  so  that  they  could  never  be  got  together  again  for  the 
Day  of  Judgment,"  than  would  be  well  consistent  with 
human  sanity  ? 

Men  travel  world-wide  to  see  in  painful  weeks  what  is 
here  shown  in  the  walk  of  a  few  hours — quite  as  much  as 
to  survey  the  beauties  of  nature  amid  which  the  varied 
habitations  are  located  ;  and  yet  thousands  of  visitors  to 
the  Exposition  during  the  current  summer,  have  left  it, 
believing  its  marvels  exhausted  after  days  and  weeks  spent 
in  its  circles  and  transverse  passages,  and  without  having 
made  connectedly  the  "  tour  of  the  world  "  thus  opened 
to  them  in  a  single  inclosure,  and  embodying  art  as  well 
as  the  detail  of  ordinary  living  in  distant  lands  !  Thous- 
ands, and  yet  only  a  small  proportion  of  the  great  crowd ; 
for  the  declaration  has  been  general,  that  "  the  outside  is 
quite  as  interesting  as  the  inside,"  and  the  alleys  of  the 
park  have  been  filled  with  delightful  crowds,  not  only 
during  the  time  of  exhibition,  but  during  those  long  hours 
elapsing  between  the  inexorable  closing  of  the  building  at 
seven,  and  that  of  the  grounds  at  eleven,  which  otherwise 
would  have  been  all  restaurant-life  instead  of  compound. 

Art  as  well  as  the  detail  of  ordinary  living,  it  has  been 
said,  for  no  small  share  of  the  isolated  buildings  are 
gemmed  with  the  best  and  finest  productions  of  the  coun- 
tries to  which  they  are  accredited.  Not  only  in  the  long 
barrack-like  buildings  studding  the  outer  walls  are  clus- 
tered many  of  the  heavier  manufactures  of  all  the  nations 
(including  nearly  all  that  have  won  us  medals  and  applausa 
in  the  United  States  Department,  and  the  admirable  agri- 
cultural and  equine  inventions  of  England,  France,  and 
Germany) ;  but  some  of  the  very  finest  specimens  of  what 
our  French  cousins  persist  in  calling  the  "  beaux  arts  "  (why 
not  "  belles  arts"  as  well  as  " belles  lettres  .^")  are  to  be  found 


131  PARIS    IN    '67. 

either  stowed  or  scattered  through  these  detached  build- 
ipgs  and  "  annexes." 

The  task  is  no  light  one,  but  the  object  is  worthy  of  the 
labor.  Let  us  stroll  in  thought,  as  only  a  part  of  us  have 
done  in  reality,  among  the  buildings  forming  the  most 
notable  features  of  these  notable  grounds. 

The  first  toast,  in  any  land,  should  be  to  the  I'uler  of 
that  land  :  let  the  same  compliment  be  paid  in  a  prome- 
nade. Entering  at  the  Grand  Porte,  let  us  turn  to  the 
left  again,  as  in  marking  out  the  allotments ;  and  if  we 
only  note  a  few  of  the  most  prominent  objects,  let  them 
be  such  as  to  convey  a  faint  idea  of  the  whole.  The  Quart 
Fran9ais  (French  one-quarter),  of  course. 

The  Emperor's  Pavilion  stands  at  the  immediate  left  of 
the  walk,  and  near  the  Grand  Porte — a  gilded  Persian 
mosque  or  temple,  rich  with  rare  shrubberies  without,  and 
yet  rarer  shrubberies  showing  within.  Three  flights  of 
steps,  one  from  the  front,  and  one  at  either  end,  with 
silks,  satins,  and  the  art  of  tapestry-working — Lyons,  Au- 
busson  and  the  Gobelins — all  exhausted  in  the  small  centre- 
room,  that  nearly  always  stands  so  invitingly  open  (though 
the  groom  at  the  steps  and  the  silken  cord  across  them 
might  make  entrance  inconvenient),  and  the  two  still 
smaller  half-curtained  recesses  which  spring  like  wings 
from  the  centre  of  this  very  bijou  of  an  oriental  building. 
Nothing  gaudy,  nothing  glaring,  but  everything  ratiier 
low-toned  than  otherwise,  and  yet  the  sum  of  luxury 
offered  in  adulation  to  one  of  the  most  luxurious  raonarchs 
of  any  age.  The  upholsteries  are  inviting,  the  flowers  are 
rare  and  odorous,  and  the  taste  is  unimpeachable ;  and  yet 
pass  on  and  pass  on  without  envy — there  have  been  those 
who  grew  used  to  such  luxuries,  and  missed  them  much 
more  when  they  passed  beyond  their  reach,  than  can  we 
whose  limbs  have  never  pressed  the  couches,  nor  our  fin- 
gers toyed  with  the  bijouterie ! 


THE    PARK    A2TD     GROUNDS.  135 

A  little  on,  to  the  left,  and  we  are  npon  (figuratively,  not 
literally)  the  tall  chimney  of  one  of  the  steam  generators 
wtich  supply  power  to  the  immense  machines  within  the 
building-,  and  of  which  some  twenty  suiTomid  it  on  differ- 
ent sides;  then  upon  a  handsome  little  Grecian  temple, 
filled  with  the  richest  and  the  rarest  of  photo  sculpture — 
an  art  some  day  destined  to  make  Phidias  a  nobody ;  then 
upon  a  tall  tower,  which  seems  a  shot-tower,  and  is  really 
a  windmill,  though,  oddly  enough,  without  wings  or  sails  ; 
then  upon  a  little  ruined  round-tower,  on  a  raised  rocky 
knoll,  with  the  crumbling  stones  and  the  climbiug  ivy 
BO  natural  as  to  deceive  many  of  the  unsophisticated ; 
then  upon  a  building  of  open  frame-work,  which  seems  to 
be  as  literally  "hung  with  bells,"  inside,  as  ever  was 
oriental  bride  or  team  in  sleighing  time,  without,  and 
from  which,  at  the  hours,  such  loud  and  melodious  chimes 
go  out  and  ring  merrily  over  the  Champ,  that,  for  the 
moment,  all  other  pursuits  are  suspended,  and  the  whole 
body  of  visitors  fall  to  chasing  the  flying  melody  through 
the  air;  then  upon  an  immense  church  of  the  diminutive 
cathedral  species,  in  which  different  denominations  join  in 
worship  during  the  Exposition — no  guaranty  of  anything 
beyond  ;  then  upon  a  fifty-foot  lake,  with  a  tall  light-house 
rock-throned  in  the  centre,  and  a  Fresnel  light  (at  night) 
at  top,  big  enough  and  bright  enough  to  suggest  that  the 
dangers  of  Paris  to  human  vessels  have  been  foreseen,  and 
this  beacon  erected  to  warn  them  off;  then  upon  a  cluster 
of  beautiful  nothings  in  the  way  of  lap-roofed  towers,  which 
proves  to  be  a  chalet  (Franco-Suisse) ;  and  a  plain  build- 
ing which  turns  out  to  be  a  military  bakery,  and  makes 
people  hungry  by  the  warm-bready  smell  continually  eman- 
ating from  it ;  then  upon  a  building  of  three  flights  and  a 
protruding  front,  which  is  discovered  to  be  an  Interna- 
tional Theatre,  where  performances  (by  no  means  inter- 
national)  are   given,  afternoon   and  evening,  and   where 


136  PARIS   IN   '67. 

people  guilty  of  going  to  theatres  in  summer  may  enter 
if  they  like.  Down  in  the  corner,  near  the  Porte  de  I'Uni- 
versite  (or  Porte  d'Orsay),  stands  a  large  Grecian  building 
"with  Turkish  dome  and  Chinese  stair-cased  front,  which  we 
suspect  to  he  a  new  model  chateau  or  state  prison,  but 
discover  to  be  a  photographer's  shop.  Here  a  model 
Parisian  workman's  house,  rather  American-looking ;  there 
a  model  blanchisserie  (wash-house),  which  looks  like  a 
Swiss  cottage  above,  but  straddles  below  like  a  wide- 
legged  boy  with  rolled-up  trousers ;  and  plenty  of  other 
objects,  but  none  of  especial  interest  remain,  until  we  have 
passed  the  three  grand  entrances  of  the  southeast  (Rapp, 
De  la  Bourdonnaye,  and  St.  Dominique),  having  thus 
made  one  quarter  the  circuit  of  the  building. 

Beyond  these  portes  we  enter  upon  the  Quart  Beige ; 
but  within  this  lies  the  French  Park  proper,  and  a  brief 
description  of  that  reserve  must  be  kept  for  a  separate 
article.  There  is  nothing  (outside  of  that  park)  to  attract 
special  attention  until  reaching  the  Belgian  Park  proper, 
except  an  immense  plain  three-storied  building  on  the 
Avenue  Boiardonnaye,  and  immediately  above  the  portes, 
known  as  the  Pavilion  of  the  Imperial  Commission  and 
Jury — already  dear  to  the  exhibitors  who  have  succeeded, 
and  execrated  by  the  others  ;  because  there  the  delibera- 
tions (more  or  less  earnest)  have  been  held  which  awarded 
or  denied  them  their  "  rights." 

It  is  beyond  the  French  Park  and  near  the  Grand  Porte 
de  I'Ecole  Militaire,  that  the  Belgian  buildings  have  place, 
few,  but  notable,  as  the  Belgian  collections  are  the  third, 
if  not  the  second,  in  interest  of  the  whole.  The  first  in 
importance  is  a  handsome  plain  Grecian  building  with 
false  front,  but  commanding  attention  from  being  filled 
with  a  most  extensive  collection  of  pictures,  embracing 
many  of  the  gems  of  Flemish  art,  and  second  only  to  the 
grand  array  within  the  Exposition  building.     Yet  another 


TEE    PARK   AND     OROUNDS.  137 

structure,  an  exact  diminutive  copy  of  Castle  Garden,  with 
a  Greenwich  Street  boarding-house  added  as  a  front, 
supplies  room  to  the  immense  Flemish  collection  of  car- 
riages—  so  many  and  so  luxurious,  that  the  lymphatic 
character  of  the  people  is  recalled,  and  one  also  remembers 
how  they  have  been  provided  with  animals  to  draw  them, 
ever  since  the  time  of  Henry  VIII.,  in  the  shape  of  "Flan- 
ders mares." 

This,  with  some  minor  buildings  of  the  Flemings,  brings 
us  to  the  Grand  Porte  de  I'Ecole  Militaire,  and  completes 
the  circuit  (except  the  French  Park)  of  the  second  quarter 
of  the  building  and  the  Champ. 


xm. 

PARK  AND  GROUNDS  OF  THE  EXPOSITION. 


SECOND   PAPEE. 


RETURJaNG,  then,  in  our  continued  promenade  of  tLe 
park,  to  the  grand  entrance  at  the  Pont  de  Jena,  and  turn- 
ing to  the  right  as  before  to  the  left,  we  enter  the  Quart 
Anglais,  where,  as  in  the  Beige  and  the  Allemand  (Ger- 
man), French  buildings  of  art  and  convenience  are  to  be 
found  interspersed.  Some  of  the  more  important  of  them 
are  located  here — an  immense  erection,  something  like  a 
town-hall  or  state-house,  at  the  very  edge  of  the  Champ, 
and  fronting  both  there  and  riverward,  being  the  Cercle 
International,  a  blending  of  club-house  and  restaurant, 
specially  intended  for  visitors,  to  which  very  nearly  the 
same  remarks  will  apply,  before  used  with  reference  to 
the  Theatre.  Near  it,  and  with  the  same  frontage,  far- 
ther to  the  right,  a  handsome,  but  singular  building, 
which  seems  to  be  an  enlarged  article  of  cabinet-furni- 
ture and  bears  the  carved  eagles  and  wooden  urns  of 
the  prevalent  manufactures  in  walnut,  is  the  Salle  des 
Conferences,  or  hall  in  which  the  officials  may  (again 
more  or  less)  deliberate  on  the  details  of  the  Exposition. 
Beyond  and  around  it,  filling  half  the  extreme  corner 
towards  the  Portes  de  la  Gare  and  Grenelle,  heavy  erec- 
tions in  mechanics  meet  the  eye,  and  Archimedes  seems 
to  have  his  share  of  the  collection.  A  little  beyond, 
yet    near   the   corner,   but   toward    the   building,    comes 


TEE    PARK   AND     GROUNDS.  139 

the  one  structure  within  the  grounds,  vieing  with  the 
Emperor's  Pavilion  in  richness  of  oriental  taste,  and  far 
excelling  it  in  size — the  palace  of  the  Bey  of  Tunis, 
whose  tum-turaing  cafe,  within,  has  been  the  btte  noir 
of  visitors.  Light,  airy,  and  exceedingly  beautiful  in 
architecture,  is  this  markedly  Saracen  erection,  its  central 
mosque  dome-spired,  crescented  and  bannerolled,  while 
two  smaller  domes  of  the  same  shape  relieve  the  square- 
ness of  the  ornamented  eaves,  and  tall,  large  windows 
seem  to  cut  it  into  an  upright  lattice,  and  curved  high 
stairs  add  to  the  lightness  of  appearance  and  the  difficulty 
of  entrance,  if  the  Bey  (I  did  not  see  him)  should  chance 
to  be  fat  and  waddle.  ■"  Tommy,"  who  has  been  the 
guest  of  the  Bey,  alleges  that  "  the  palace  is  finished, 
inside,  with  ]\loorish  filagree  ceilings  and  gingerbread 
hangings,  very  much  like  that  confounded  Tunisian  cafe 
where  they  bang  and  jingle  the  thingamys  in  the  big 
building ;  and  they  lounge  on  piles  of  thick  red  cushions 
all  round  the  walls,  and  smoke  long  pipes  that  make  a 
fellow  sick,  and  drink  what  they  call  sherbet,  that  tastes 
like  honey,  water,  and  rum,  and  talk  about  its  being  cooled 
with  '  snow  from  the  Mountains  of  the  Moon,'  though  bet 
your  boots  that  it  is  nothing  but  common  ice  from  Nor- 
way or  Xew  England,  and  not  the  cleanest  at  that,  either !" 
"  Tommy "  adds  that  the  Tunisians,  and  other  Oriental 
nations  whom  he  has  visited  in  their  special  privacies, 
are  "bag-breeched,  squatty,  miserable  sort  o'  old  foo-foos, 
anyway,  and  he  wouldn't  give  shooks  for  them !" 

But  all  this  by  the  way.  The  Tunisian  Palace  is  hand- 
some and  picturesque,  and  gives  character  to  that  portion 
of  the  English  Park,  not  a  little  disfigured,  just  above,  by 
the  long  and  shapeless  ''annexe"  buildings,  filled  with 
the  homely  and  practical,  which  commence  at  the  Porte 
de  Grenelle  and  skirt  the  Avenue  Sufii-en  all  the  way  up 
to  the  head  of  the  Champ,  except  where  broken  by  the 


140  PARIS   IN   '67. 

three  north-western  portes.  Not  far  from  the  Tunisian 
Palace,  left  of  it,  is  a  plain  building  with  raised  centre 
roof  and  Grecian  entrance,  of  peculiar  interest  to  the  lovers 
of  missionary  enterprise ;  for  in  it  are  the  records  and 
results,  in  books  and  printing,  of  all  the  Protestant  missions 
which  have  wrought  such  marvelous  changes,  beneficial 
and  the  reverse,  but  always  intended  for  the  best,  in  far 
Asia  and  Africa,  and  the  "  Islands  of  the  Sea."  Still 
nearer  to  the  grand  entrance  stand  two  buildings  of 
importance — the  one  long,  plain  and  cumbersome,  the 
otlier  of  two  heights  and  some  pretension — the  first  an 
interesting  model  French  military  hospital  (of  which 
Americans  know  quite  enough,  just  now,  practically, 
without  instruction),  and  the  second  (with  two  lesser 
buildings  at  no  great  distance)  containing  the  unex- 
plainable  details  for  warming  and  gas-lighting  the  great 
building. 

Then  another  striking  orientalism,  between  the  last- 
named  group  and  the  Tunisian  Palace — the  summer  palace 
(just  as  if  he  intended  to  remain  during  the  lointer !)  of 
the  Viceroy  (since  King)  of  Egypt.  Lower  than  the 
Tunisian  Palace,  and  more  broken-up  in  the  character  of 
its  architecture,  but  aiiy,  wide-doored  and  many-windowed, 
and  crowned  with  the  inevitable  mosque-dome,  without 
which  an  Eastern  mansion  could  no  more  be  complete  than 
an  European  one  without  a  chimney.  Next,  an  Egyptian 
temple,  that  of  Edfou  in  miniature,  massive,  ponderous, 
and  Tombs-like,  containing  the  smallest  and  least-interesting 
collection  of  Egytian  antiquities,  that  had  far  better  been 
kept  at  home.  Near  it  a  Turkish  mosque,  major  and  minor 
domed,  draped  and  carpeted,  but  cheerless  and  empty  of 
conveniences,  with  a  pulpit  at  the  side,  from  which  the 
moollah  may  be  supposed  to  discourse,  with  the  requisite- 
number  of  "Allah's,"  "  Bismillah's,"  allusions  to  the  "Pro- 
phet"  and    the   "Hourii,"   and    anathemas    against   the 


TEE    PARK    AND     GROUNDS.  141 

"  dogs  of  infidels,  whose  graves  may  beasts  defile  !" — to 
the  "  followers  of  the  Faithful." 

At  which  point  comes  in  a  reminder  that,  what  with  the 
Sultan,  his  brother  and  son,  the  Viceroy  of  Egypt,  and 
the  Bey  of  Tunis,  orientalism  has  been  the  feature  of  the 
season,  and  the  Koran  a  thing  rather  honored  than  the  re- 
verse, all  the  way  from  Paris  to  London — so  that  one 
might  have  doubted  whether  under  its  shadow  Christians 
had  ever  been  persecuted,  and  especially  whether  there  ever 
could  have  been  such  an  event  as  cruelty  in  Crete,  need- 
ing the  remonstrance  of  the  Christian  world !  So  that 
there  might  have  been  difficulty  in  recalling,  with  any  feel- 
ing of  their  applicability  to  the  present  crisis,  the  words 
of  Ilalleck,  away  back  in  the  days  of  Byron  and  Marco 
Bozzaris,  when  the  Crimean  complications  were  as  yet 
more  than  thirty  years  in  the  future  : — 


"  To  day  the  tiirbaned  Turk — 

Sleep,  Richard  of  the  Lion  Heart ! 

Sleep  on,  nor  from  your  cerements  start ! — 

Is  England's  firm  and  fast  ally  ; 
The  Moslem  tramples  on  the  Greek, 

And  Christendom  looks  calmly  on. 
And  hears  the  Christian  maiden  shriek, 

And  sees  the  Christian  father  die. 
And  not  a  sabre-blow  is  given 
For  Greece  and  fame,  for  God  and  heaven, 

By  Europe's  craven  chivalry  I" 

Judging  from  some  of  the  addresses  in  French  and  Eng- 
lish reception-ceremonials  of  these  oriental  potentates, 
nothing  could  be  finer  than  the  religion  and  practice  of  the 
august  gentlemen,  and  any  efl^ort  to  change  their  opinions 
and  customs  would  be  worse  than  wasted !  Anna  Maria 
(of  whom  also  by-and-by),  interrogated  upon  this  point, 
suggested  that  the  English  and  French  admiration  show- 
ered upon  the  Turks  was  real ;  that  their  institutions  of 
more  than  one  wife,  now  so  extensively  though  privately 
copied  in  London  and  Paris  (certainly  not  iu  New  York  !), 


142  PARIS   IN   '67. 

rendered  them  special  objects  of  interest  to  their  proselytes 
— i.  (?.,  every  third  male  monster !  However  much  this  may 
be  of  libel,  one  thing  is  certain — compensations  are  univer- 
sal and  inevitable.  If  the  Sultan  was  extolled  as  the  first 
of  lawgivers  and  rulers,  before  he  left  Western  Europe  he 
"  had  his  gruel."  Once  upon  a  time  a  certain  Turkish 
Pasha,  transacting  government  business  with  the  United 
States  authorities,  was  entertained  at  the  New  York  City 
Hall  on  ham-sandwiches  and  wine,  the  two  forbidden  un- 
cleannesses  of  the  Koran ;  but  what  was  that  to  the  "flea  in 
his  ear  "  with  which  the  Sultan  left  England — a  Bible  flung 
at  him — just  as  Luther  used  to  hurl  the  same  weapon  at 
the  devil  in  his  paroxysms — by  the  British  and  Foreign 
Bible  Society ! 

Near  the  Turkish  mosque  and  at  the  edge  of  the  main 
building,  a  Turkish  school-house  raises  its  clumsy  square 
Bides  and  clumsier  round  dome ;  what  it  may  be  within, 
the  horror  of  personal  school-days  forfend  our  making  any 
inquiry !  And  here  a  tall  Chinese  pagoda  lifts  its  height, 
broken  by  the  graceful  curved  horns  of  the  order ;  and 
there  a  theatre,  of  the  same  architecture,  gives  perform- 
ances every  hour  [d  la  Barnum),  and  periodically  sends  out 
on  the  air  bursts  of  wild  barbaric  music  in  which  the 
shrill  scream  of  the  reeds  is  grandly  broken  in  upon  by  the 
solemn  undertone  of  the  great  gong  ;  and  near  beside,  in 
a  veritable  Chinese  dwelling,  one  may  see  (for  half  a  franc 
additional)  tea,  uni-boiled  by  one  Chinaman,  and  drank 
without  milk  and  scalding  hot  by  another,  and  the  pig- 
sties where  these  people  sleep  behind  matting  curtains, 
and  the  desolate-looking,  furnitureless  apartments  where  i'xt 
beauties  of  girls,  with  little  feet,  almond  eyes,  Mephistophe- 
lean eyebrows,  inch-thick-enameled  baby  faces,  and  gowns 
tight  at  the  bottom  and  sticking  out  with  stiff  wings  at 
the  w%iist,  squat  on  the  floor,  gabble,  ogle,  and  do  nothing 
with  lazy  vigor.     Then  the  same  research  may  be  made 


TEE    PARK    AND     GROUNDS.         143 

into  a  Japanese  mansion,  where  all  the  cobwebby  lumber 
of  an  old  garret  seems  to  have  been  gathered ;  where  parch- 
ment skin  and  paucity  of  head-hair  seem  to  be  the  char- 
acteristics of  the  occupants;  and  where  one  old  codger 
eternally  occujjies  himself  with  a  Japano-French  book  and 
a  pencil,  pricking  out  a  word  when  he  happens  to  under- 
stand it — a  little  wearily  to  the  looker-on,  who  finds  noth- 
ing of  interest  in  the  whole  race,  already  overdone  on 
both  continents. 

It  is  at  near  this  point  that  three  very  plain  buildings 
meet  the  American  eye  and  suggest  uncovered  heads  and 
low  speech,  though  no  doubt  they  excite  widely-different 
feelinirs  in  those  who  fail  to  understand  their  relation  to  a 
great  race.  A  simple  American  farmer's  dwelling,  of 
wood,  and  with  no  elaboration  of  ornament ;  but  one  in 
the  likes  of  which  the  men  and  women  of  America  are 
country-bom  and  country-reared,  and  a  far  more  indispen- 
sable part  of  the  land  and  its  power  than  can  well  be  real- 
ized even  by  the  American  who  is  altogether  and  exclu- 
sively "  citizen."  The  second  is  a  Boston  cracker-bakery, 
whence  arise  appetizing  smells  that  more  than  compensate 
for  the  ungracefulness  of  the  architecture.  And  yet  the 
third  is  more  suggestive  and  entitled  to  precedence  ;  for  it 
is  an  American  school-house,  with  the  master's  desk,  the 
benches,  and  the  black-board,  among  and  around  the  coun- 
terparts of  which  the  foundations  of  American  practical 
knowledge,  and  consequently  American /"yecfZom,  have  been 
laid  ;  and  one  almost  seems  to  hear  the  hum  of  young 
voices  on  the  summer  aii",  looking  in  at  tne  door — and  al- 
most to  expect,  turning  away,  to  be  overrun  by  the  rush 
of  released  yoimgsters,  crammed  with  enough  of  juvenile 
education  for  one  day,  and  grasping  books  and  lunch-bas- 
kets to  hurry  home  to  kisses,  scoldings,  and  tbeir  play. 

This  is  all  "  bosh  "  and  "  shibboleth  "  to  the  dwellers  in 
other  lands,  of  course.     Pass  on  into  the  things  of  the  old 


144  PARIS    IN    '67. 

■world,  once  more.  For  very  near,  in  another  unpretentious 
building,  is  the  Pompeian  gallery,  where  the  faded  relics  of 
two  thousand  years  ago  are  gathered,  and  where,  in  the 
crumbling  mosaics,  the  fragments  of  corroding  jewelry  and 
decaying  furniture,  one  may  visit  the  neighborhood  of 
Vesuvius  without  crossing  the  Alps,  and  learn  something 
of  the  modes  of  living  of  those  days  when  the  Saviour's 
foot  had  as  yet  scarcely  quitted  the  earth — when  Sallust 
wrote  and  Diomedes  scattered  wealth.  And,  passing,  the 
thought  comes  inevitably  up:  Could  any  juxtaposition  be 
more  strikingly  suggestive  than  this  of  the  Old  and  the 
New — of  Italy  and  Western  America — of  the  plain  where 
almost  literally  fell  that  "  fire  from  heaven,"  and  the  wide 
prairies  where  falls  heaven's  dew  to  create  bread  for  half 
a  world  ? 

And  as  if  to  afford  even  more  diversity  here,  after  this 
reminder  of  the  effeminate  South,  followed  by  a  Mexican 
temple  of  the  days  when  a  better  race  ruled  Mexico  (the 
natives)  than  it  supplies  at  present — a  building  odd,  lum- 
bering, but  not  uncomely, — and  by  a  Portuguese  pavilion 
of  really  exquisite  Moorish  beauty,  with  its  finely  swelled 
domes  and  elaborate  ornamentation, — here  come  the  hang- 
ing-roofed buildings  of  Sweden  and  Norway,  queer,  pic- 
turesque, and  full  of  a  half-barbarous  beauty — one  of  the 
Swedish,  a  marvel  in  the  work  bestowed  on  its  inclosure 
and  the  curve  of  its  outside  stair-way,  and  said  to  be  an 
exact  model  of  one  once  built  and  occupied  by  Gustavus 
Yasa;  and  beyond  them  the  Swiss  chalets  rise,  as  I  saw 
them  yesterday  up  the  valleys  of  Lauterbrunnen  and  Grin- 
delwald,  their  roofs  nearly  twice  the  size  of  the  houses 
themselves,  their  outside  galleries  a  feature  of  winter-con- 
venience, and  on  some  of  them  the  laboriously  round- 
pointed  little  shingles  seeming  to  remind  one  of  scale- 
armor.  And  yet  beyond,  a  Russian  country-house  presents 
its  perfect  apotheosis  of  chiseled  wood  and  front  gables, 


TEE    PARE    AND     GROUNDS.         145 

and  contains  within  it  a  collection  of  the  household  uten- 
sils and  furniture  of  that  northern  people,  and  a  shop 
where  their  manufactures  may  be  seen  and  their  nick- 
nackeries  bought.  And  there  .  a  Swiss  "  annexe  "  shows 
that  the  mountains  give  birth  to  skillful  mechanics  in  the 
heavy  and  practical ;  and  near  it  a  skin-and-bark  pole-sup- 
ported conical  tent  displays  the  wild  living  of  the  Tartar 
Kirghis ;  and  here  flashes  one  of  the  Spanish  houses,  light, 
airy,  and  tasteful,  that  must  have  been  borrowed  from  the 
Moors,  and  might  stand  under  the  orange-groves  of  Gre- 
nada ;  and  yet  beyond  comes  a  Prussian  school-house,  little 
different  from  the  ordinary  English  and  American,  though 
smaller  and  more  temple-like ;  and  there  is  one  of  the 
mountain  cabins,  little  more  than  a  hut,  of  the  Tyrolese, 
who  drove  out  the  First  Napoleon  from  their  mountain 
fastnesses,  and  come  down,  now-a-days,  cross-boddiced  and 
sharp-hatted,  from  their  gathering-capital  at  Innspruck, 
to  sing  echo-songs  for  us  on  dull  evenings,  all  over  Europe 
and  America;  and  another  Swiss  "  annexe  "  gives  promi- 
nence to  Alpine  pictures  made  in  the  land  that  inspired 
them ;  and  in  the  extreme  corner,  at  the  Porte  Dupleix,  a 
double-towered  small  Alhambra  of  the  Spaniards  gives 
place  to  some  of  the  finer  specimens  of  the  art  that  once 
employed  Murillo;  and  a  Hungarian  mansion,  strong, 
convenient,  and  substantial,  recalls  the  late  crowing  of 
Francis  Joseph  at  Pesth,  and  makes  us  wonder  whether 
there  are  to  be  any  more  Kossuths ;  and  yet  beyond,  a 
whole  handsome  building  is  devoted  to  the  agricultural 
products  of  the  Department  of  the  North  (France) — one 
of  the  completest  and  most  creditable  ever  gathered  in 
corresponding  space ;  and  a  long  building,  near  the  en- 
trance, and  at  the  edge  of  the  Avenue  de  la  Mothe  Piquet, 
called  the  "  Grand  Restaurant  for  Workmen  Delegates  " 
("  Grand  restaurant  pour  les  ouvriers  delegues — commis- 
sion d'encouragement "),  indicates  that  the  humbler  classes 
1 


146  PARIS    I  IT    '67. 

have  really  been  sometimes  thought  of  while  ministering 
especially  to  the  tastes  of  the  rich  and  the  royal ;  and  then 
■we  come  upon  a  group  of  array-tents,  French,  tasteful,  and 
convenient,  with  the  marquee  of  the  chef  cPescadron  tow- 
ering nobly  in  the  centre,  and  the  array  guarded  as  if  in 
I  actual  warfare  (so  fond  this  people  are  of  "  playing  at  sol- 
diers "  everywhere  !) ;  and  this,  with  only  a  tithe  of  the 
features  noticed,  and  the  general  aspects  only  indicated  in 
the  faintest  manner  by  types  that  specially  strike  the  eye 
— this  brings  us  once  more  to  the  Grand  Porte  de  I'Ecole 
Militaire,  and  completes  the  circuit  of  the  great  park,  the 
Pare  Frangais  again  excepted,  and  retained  as  a  bonne 
houchc  after  a  banquet  that  has  been  (or  should  have  been) 
all  appetizing. 

Indicated  in  the  faintest  manner — perhaps  not  indicated 
at  all — for  what  is  all  this  infinite  variety,  even,  without  the 
Chinese  that  eat  fire  and  swallow  swords  in  their  theatre ; 
the  mock  hareem  of  Circassian  girls  that  peep  from  the 
Turkish  pavilion ;  the  French  miniature  bal  d'opera, 
where  the  girls  (mildly)  throw  their  feet  in  one's  face,  in 
the  diluted  cayican ;  the  clinking  castanets  and  trampling 
feet  of  the  Spanish  girls  dancing  in  their  Moresco  habita- 
tion ;  the  railways  that  carry  little  cars  loaded  with  ice 
cream,  in  the  Italian  quarter;  the  little  bells  that  tinkle 
and  rills  that  ripple,  and  walks  that  lead  astray  to  sweet 
Burprises ;  the  trees  that  wave;  the  flowers  that  bloom; 
the  shrubberies  that  encircle ;  the  flags  and  bannerols  that 
flaunt;  the  fountains  that  spout  and  spirt  bright  water; 
the  statues  that  stud  every  avenue  and  tower  in  colossal 
size  at  every  entrance  and  approach ;  the  moving  crowd 
that  everywhere  and  at  every  hour  lend  it  additional  vari- 
ety by  the  diversity  of  costume  the  continuity  of  motion, 
the  speech  of  lip  and  expression  of  face ;  the  great  bells  that 
ring ;  the  children  that  laugh ;  the  lovely  women  that  smile ; 
the  idiots  that  strut  and  simper ;  the  force  of  well-regulated 


THE    PARK    ARD     OROUKDS.  147 

and  unobtrusive  authority  that  shows  itself  at  every  turn 
in  the  quiet  men  with  the  cocked  hats  and  swords,  and. 
the  silver  ships  on  the  long  tails  of  their  coats  ;  the  music 
that  ever  and  anon  breaks  forth  from  outbuilding  or  encir- 
cling restaurant ;  the  new-comers  that  flock  in  ;  the  wearied 
who  saunter  slowly  away;  the  thousand-and-one  sights 
and  sounds  and  influences,  which  pencil  cannot  catch  or 
word  convey,  and  which  after  all  supply  the  life  when  hu- 
man art  and  arrangement  can  only  bring  forth  the  inani- 
mate body  ?  What  is  all  without  these  ?  Nothing,  The 
intelligent  and  observant  stroller  through  the  wonderful 
grounds  of  the  Exposition,  during  the  summer  of  1867, 
will  have  felt,  seen  and  understood  the  indescribable  en- 
chantment :  the  absentee,  even  if  instructed  by  more 
faithful  and  facile  pens  than  that  of  the  Governor,  will 
never  come  nearer  than  a  fancy,  an  echo,  a  shadow  I 


XIV. 

BEAUTIES  OF  THE  PARC  EEANgAIS. 

Often,  in  speaking  of  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  the  expres- 
Bion  has  been  used  of  the  Pre  Catelan  hidden  away  in  its 
midst,  tliat  it  is  an  inner  glory  within  a  glory — a  holy  of 
holies  in  the  priesthood  of  beauty,  to  be  approached  last, 
if  at  all,  because  after  it  the  less-perfect  would  seem  flat 
and  insignificant.  Something  like  this  may  be  said  of  the 
French  Park  proper,  which  is  by  no  means  hidden  away 
even  from  outsiders  who  have  never  entered  the  Exposition 
grounds  (it  being  in  plain  view  from  dilFerent  portions  of 
the  Avenue  de  la  Bourdonnaye  on  the  east,  and  the  Avenue 
de  la  Mothe  Piquet  on  the  south);  but  an  additional  franc 
is  necessary  to  enter  within  and  fully  enjoy  it,  whether 
paid  on  first  entrance  by  the  Porte  de  Tourville,  which 
opens  upon  it  at  the  southeast  corner,  or  in  the  attempt 
to  pass  into  it  from  other  portions  of  the  grounds.  It  forms 
the  crown  and  perfection  of  the  Champ  de  Mars,  even  as 
the  Pre  Catelan  crowns  and  completes  the  Bois  de  Bou- 
logne. It  supplies  a  ground  of  agreement  even  for  those 
who  deny  and  those  who  indorse  the  excellence  of  the 
other  details  of  the  Exposition. 

Here  it  is  that  the  science  of  delicate  landscape  garden- 
ing {i.e.,  landscape  gardening  in  a  close  way  and  for  near 
view),  for  which  the  French  are  deservedly  applauded  by 
all  the  rest  of  the  world,  comes  into  play  and  supplies  a 
rival  to  the  wonders  of  Versailles,  Here  it  is  that  the 
great  conservatories  stand,  evidently  unlimited  cost  and 


TEE    PARC    FRAITCAIS.  149 

labor  bestowed  upon  tbeir  heating,  arrangement  and  ven- 
tilation, and  half  hidden  behind  the  glasses  of  each,  such 
rows  and  groups  and  masses  of  the  loveliest  plants  and 
flowers  to  which  temperate  zone  or  tropics  give  birth,  that 
the  botanist  may  well  go  half  insane  over  the  display,  and 
the  unlearned  observer  thank  heaven  that  he  has  been 
gifted  with  tlie  power  of  seeing  and  enjoying,  without  the 
labor  of  classification — just  as  an  old  codger  once  thanked 
a  pompous  du^e  for  wearing  diamonds  for  him,  so  that  he 
could  see  and  enjoy  them  without  the  cost  of  biiying  or 
the  risk  of  keeping. 

Here  it  is,  too,  that  the  verdure,  well  kept  throughout 
the  whole  Champ  de  Mars,  is  made  a  perfection  of  neat 
finish — the  little  spots  of  plain  lawn,  close  emerald  velvet ; 
the  walks  edged  with  iron-bowed  borderings  skillfully  made 
into  the  semblance  of  wooden  withes  ;  the  shrubbery  judi- 
ciously placed  as  well  kept,  and  often  of  the  rarest  and 
costliest  exotic  materials ;  and  that  peculiar  French  and 
German  science  of  embroidering  in  the  colors  of  flowers, 
carried  to  the  extreme  of  care  and  taste  in  borderings, 
beds,  and  intersections,  which  really  seem  to  have  been 
sown  with  the  fragments  of  a  thousand  shivered  rainbows. 
I  have  said  it  before,  and  I  repeat  it — Versailles,  Kew, 
and  the  grounds  of  the  Sydenham  Crystal  Palace  are  all 
rivaled  here.  The  Captain  (of  whom,  too,  something  more 
definite  by-and-by) — the  Cai^tain,  who  has  a  practiced  eye 
in  all  that  belongs  to  the  fruits  and  flowers  of  the  earth, 
places  the  Pare  Frangais  before  all  in  this  regard,  and 
literally  surrenders  at  discretion  to  a  series  of  bewildering 
flower-hemmed  rambles  that  are  too  much  for  his  available 
vacuum  of  enjoyment. 

Perhaps  the  Captain  grows  even  more  enthusiastic  (and 
eke  the  Governor),  when  a  golden  but  by  no  means  hot 
afternoon  throws  its  Italian  atmosphere  over  the  Exposi- 
tion palace,  over  the  St-ine  and  its  opposite  heights  and 


150  PARIS    I2T    '67. 

buildings,  and,  better  than  all,  over  the  French  Park,  to 
which  we  retire  for  absolute  rest  Avhen  the  more  practical 
features  of  the  exhibition  have  wearied  us. 

Yonder  is  a  little  lake,  or  fresh-water  aquarium  {eau  douce 
— soft  water,  the  Frenchmen  call  it),  where  we  stand  at  the 
brink  and  Avatch  the  tiny  ripples  made  by  tlie  tinier  deni- 
zens within,  and  find  the  sense  of  the  beautiful  filled  by 
the  green-and-silver  supplied  in  border  and  water,  and 
muse  over  great  oceans  which  some  of  us  have  crossed, 
where  mighty  whales  were  as  nothing,  in  comparison,  be- 
side these  atoms  of  fish-life  to  their  "  inland  sea."  And 
then  we  peep  into  conservatory  after  conservatory,  and 
stroll  by  beds  of  soft  flower-embroidery,  and  come  at  last 
to  a  spot  where  hundreds  are  gathered,  and  where  five 
sous  each,  placed  in  the  hand  of  the  buxom,  short-petti- 
coated  and  bare-headed  female  commissionaire  des  chaises, 
with  the  tell-tale  wheel  at  her  girdle,  supplies  a  chair  to 
each  for  the  needed  rest,  and  enables  us  to  lounge  indo- 
lently back  and  listen  to  the  music. 

The  music — ay,  that  is  the  attraction,  after  all.  For 
near  us  there  is  an  elegant  colored  and  gilded  open  pa^T-lion, 
or  music-stand,  like  that  which  New  Yorkers  so  well  know 
in  the  Central  Park,  but  larger  and  less  graceful;  and 
around  it  and  down  the  winding  walks  in  the  immediate 
neighborhood  the  chair-occupiers  are  grouped ;  and  in  the 
pavilion  a  band  in  green — one  of  the  pet  bands  of  the 
Emperor's  "household  ti'oops" — are  discoursing  such  soft 
music,  from  Sebastirm  Bach  and  Abt  and  Mendelssohn,  as 
thrills  the  ear  with  quiet  satisfaction  and  makes  the  drowsy 
lounger  think  of  sleeping  a  little  while  in  his  chair,  "  lapped 
in  "  scenic  as  well  as  musical  "  elysium." 

Another  and  then  another,  with  applause  and  bravos  at 
the  close  of  nearly  every  piece  ;  and  then  there  comes  a 
change  in  the  programme.  There  is  a  stir  and  bustle 
among  the  loungers,  the  measured  tramp  of  feet  is  heard 


THE    PARC    FRAI^gAIS.  151 

in  the  pause  of  the  music  ;  and  two  by  two,  filing  up  from 
the  palace,  comes  another  of  the  Emperor's  bands,  larger 
than  the  other,  in  blue,  shakoed,  sworded  and  fierce,  and 
loaded  with  such  bulky  instruments  in  brass  that  they 
seem  in  anything  else  than  "  light  marching  order."  They 
approach  the  steps  of  the  pavilion ;  the  band  within 
salutes ;  that  without  answers  ;  and  then  the  first  file  down 
the  steps  at  the  left,  and  the  latter  enter  and  take  their 
places.  Green  has  given  place  to  blue,  and  the  repertoire 
changes  with  the  personnel. 

Was  there  a  thought  of  sleep  before  ?  And  did  the 
softer  and  gentler  emotions  of  humanity  find  momentary 
encouragement — love,  and  moonlight  rambles,  and  grief 
over  the  graves  of  dear  friends  ?  Something  very  diifer- 
ent,  now :  the  sentimental  in  French  character  has  been 
indulged  quite  long  enough;  let  the  vigorous  and  warlike 
take  its  place.  Grand  marches  thunder  from  the  ponder- 
ous brazen  throats,  and  fierce  onslaughts  seem  to  rise  in 
the  magic  of  sound,  till  Rouget  de  Lisle  comes  back  with 
the  "Marseillaise,"  and  John  of  Leyden  with  the  triumphal 
progress  of  the  "  Prophet,"  and  the  days  of  the  Little 
Corporal  seem  to  live  again,  and  the  most  lamb-like  of  us 
seem  to  be  "  conquerors  striding  over  ruined  walls  "  and 
dictating  the  destinies  of  nations. 

"When  and  whereupon,  in  a  longer  pause  than  usual  of 
the  music,  the  Governor  tells  the  Captain  one  of  his  brief 
but  inevitable  stories,  having  for  its  foundation  that  very 
turning  lambs  into  lions  consequent  upon  warlike  music. 
The  Captain  laughs  appreciatively ;  and  thereupon  the  Gov- 
ernor is  encouraged  to  detail  it  to  a  more  extensive  audi- 
tory, without  the  just-ended  martial  melody  to  give  it 
point. 

There  may  have  been  more  arrant  cowards  in  his  gener- 
ation than  a  certain  Middle  State  American  of  a  late  age, 
who  rejoiced  in  a  name  something  like  that  of  John  Best; 


152  PARIS    IN    '67. 

but  they  had  not  been  made  manifest  to  the  outer  world. 
At  forty  he  had  never  been  known  to  remain  outside  of  his 
own  garden  alone  after  dusk ;  sharp  thunder  shook  him 
with  fancies  of  the  Day  of  Doom,  and  the  apparition  of  a 
small  dog  from  behind  a  road-side  bush  in  broad  daylight, 
would  set  his  knees  knocking  together  like  a  pair  of  casta- 
nets. He  was  said  to  have  denied  "popping  the  question  " 
to  the  woman  of  his  heart,  and  left  her  to  fall  into  the 
hands  of  his  rival,  after  forming  an  engagement  of  mar- 
riage, on  that  rival  pulling  his  nose  as  a  preliminary,  and 
threatening  to  use  a  subsequent  cowhide  if  he  did  not  at 
once  retire  from  the  field.  "Well,  one  evening  Best,  then 
in  the  flower  of  his  inglorious  manhood,  chanced  to  find, 
himself  for  an  hour  in  the  company  of  a  dozen  rural  sere- 
naders,  armed  with  violins,  clarionets,  drums  and  cym- 
bals, preparing  for  an  excursion.  They  were  "  practising  " 
and  heaven  help  the  music  they  made,  except  in  the  way 
of  noise  !  They  played  various  then-popular  airs,  and 
Best  (who  seldom  heard  music  beyond  that  of  a  jewsharp) 
listened  with  interest.  They  broadened  their  repertoire, 
bringing  in  "  Yankee  Doodle,"  "  Hail  Columbia,"  and  other 
national  melodies,  and  Best's  eyes  began  to  flash  and  his 
cheek  to  redden  as  no  man  had  ever  before  seen  them. 
They  played  "  Washington's  March,  "  and  he  commenced 
promenading,  with  something  approaching  a  martial  step, 
and  an  occasional  snort  which  might  have  been  mistaken 
for  that  of  an  awakening  war-horse.  They  changed  to  that 
now  unfashionable  yet  fine  old  air,  once  popularly  called 
"Bony  Over  the  Alps,"  the  grand  rolling  sweep  of  which 
always  seemed  to  suggest  the  days  of  Areola  and  Marengo  ; 
and  the  loud  thud  of  the  heel  of  the  promenader  almost 
vied  with  the  thunder  of  the  drums.  Eyes  flashing,  chest 
heaving,  breath  drawn  sonorously,  who  could  have  believed 
that  metamorphosed  man  to  be  the  John  Best  of  any  pre- 
vious day  ?     One  of  the  party  went  up  to  him.     "  What 


THE    PARC    FRAKQAIS.  153 

ails  you,  Best  ?"  "  What  ails  me  ?  Nothiug  !"  "  What  are 
yon  raviug  in  that  way  for,  then  ?"  "  Raving  !  I'm  not 
raving — I'm  marching !  Any  man  that  is  a  man,  could 
march  through  h — 11  to  that  tune  !"  "  You  ? — why  you 
couldn't  march  through  a  sheep-pnsture,  if  there  was  a  cat 
in  the  path!"  At  which  moment,  »H>aJ<7e  cUctu,  John 
Best's  right  fist  hit  the  doubter  between  the  eyes,  and  he 
measured  his  length  on  the  floor,  Best  showing  no  incon- 
siderable prowess,  moreover,  in  the  "  free-fight  "  which  fol- 
lowed— a  fight  rendered  somewhat  mixed  and  prolonged 
by  the  fact  that  all  parties  doubted  their  own  eyes.  The 
rattsic  died  out,  and  Best,  once  more  a  coward,  "  begged 
ofi","'  called  for  liquor,  abjectly  apologized,  and  slunk  away  ; 
but  there  was  a  wondering  tradition  in  the  neighborhood 
for  many  years  after  of  the  power  of  music,  and  especially 
of  "  Bony  Over  the  Alps,"  that  on  a  certain  occasion, 
within  the  personal  knowledge  of  some  of  the  relators,  had 
"actually  induced  John  Best,  the  biggest  coward  between 
Casco  Bay  and  Currituck,  to  strike  a  man  !  " 

But  the  Governor's  story  has  happily  an  end,  and  it  ends 
as  the  musical  hour  expires  and  the  gubernatorial  and 
naval  heroes  leave  their  chairs  and  move  onward  down  the 
slope  toward  the  Serre  Monumental,  on  the  opposite  rise 
or  knoll — pausing  midway,  however,  to  catch  the  crown- 
ing triumph  with  which  the  band  carries  all  French  hearts 
captive,  and  recalls  another  of  the  First  Napoleonic  eras 
than  that  just  alluded  to — that  sweet,  sad,  characteristic 
air  with  which  poor  Josephine  made  sacred  the  campaign 
in  Egypt — "  Partant  Pour  le  Syrie.^'' 

It  is  a  beautiful  water-bijou — a  lake  in  miniature — that 
lies  below  the  music  pavilion  and  is  passed  by  a  neat 
little  rustic  bridge  on  the  way  to  the  Serre  Monumental, 
standing  on  the  opposite  rise  with  full  front  to  the  Poite 
de  Tourville  (southeast  corner  of  the  Park),  and  of  the 
name  of  which  all  explanation  must  be  waived,  excepting 
7* 


154  PARIS    I  IT   '6  7. 

that  "serre"  is  French  for  "green-house"  or  "conserva- 
tory," and  that  there  seems  to  he  no  "  monument"  what- 
ever, except  of  taste,  attached  to  the  building.  It  forms 
one  of  the  rarest  glories  of  the  whole,  presenting  a  square, 
open-sided,  i-oofed  pavilion,  first  on  entering,  with  Venetian 
draperies  of  striped  cloth  depending,  and  the  resources  of 
a  w'orld  apparently  exhausted  in  the  floral  glories  which 
surround  it  on  every  hand.  This  square  is  only  the 
vestibule  to  the  larger  division  of  the  building,  rounded 
at  the  opposite  end,  and  with  the  glass  roof  shaded  by  a 
full  covering  of  the  same  striped  Venetian  material,  fami- 
liar to  us  all  in  window  awnings.  The  architect  of  the 
Serre  has  evidently  seen  that  finest  feature  in  the  English 
Royal  Gardens  at  Kew,  the  Palm-IIouse ;  for  the  general 
character  of  the  building  is  not  only  the  same,  but  the 
same  sharp-arched  orientahsm  is  shown  in  the  shape 
of  the  roof.  Within,  too,  is  a  diminutive  Kew — for  not 
only  Paris,  but  Brussels  and  other  Eui'opean  capitals  have 
been  ransacked  for  rare  tropical  plants  of  peculiar  size  and 
magnificence,  to  give  it  tone  and  completeness ;  and  deli- 
cate feathery  palms  thrust  up  their  graceful  branches,  as 
if  feeling  for  the  balmy  southern  air ;  and  giant  cacti  sug- 
gest the  succulent  South  American  lands ;  and  century- 
plants  give  their  promise  of  bloom  of  a  hundred  years  ;  and 
the  orange-tree  of  Spain  and  the  spice  and  gum  trees  of 
'the  far  East  stand  lovingly  together;  and  the  naturalist 
probably  has  a  "good  time"  in  understanding  what  he 
sees,  as  the  non-scientific  observer  ("present  company  not 
excepted")  finds  one  in  his  happy  ignorance. 

There  is  a  single  statue  in  the  Palm-House  of  the  Serre 
Monumental,  of  more  than  average  merit  and  interest — a 
life-size  full-length  of  the  Empress  Eugenie  on  the  day  of 
her  mai-riage,  and  in  the  robes  of  that  occasion,  in  which 
the  sculptor  seems  to  have  caught  face  and  form  with  as 
happy  efiect  as  "Winterhalter  in  painting.      The  popular 


TEE    PARC    FRANQAIS.  155 

Empress  will  always  live  as  she  was  (alas!  as  she  is  not 
now),  while  this  excellent  statue  remains;  and  on  the 
square  pedestal  a  bas-relief  of  the  marriage  ceremony  com- 
memorates that  occasion  with  far  less  than  the  average 
inelegance  of  that  branch  of  sculpture. 

One  other  special  feature  in  the  French  Park,  and  then 
we  must  pass  away  from  it  imaginarUy,  as  it  is  not  too  easy 
to  do  in  reality. 

An  hundred  or  two  of  yards  from  the  Serre,  and  on 
either  side,  stand  the  Aquarium  d'Eau  Douce  (before 
spoken  of)  and  the  Aquarium  Maritime ;  and  in  the  won- 
derful expanse  of  the  latter,  with  water-filled  glass  rus- 
tically set,  above  and  below,  all  the  monsters  and  all  the 
minnows  of  the  sea — always  excepting  whales  and  sea- 
serpents — seem  ta  be  swimming;  while  in  the  caverns 
below,  which  might  skirt  some  wild  northern  coast,  the 
science  of  laborious  illusion  seems  to  have  been  carried 
even  farther  than  in  that  ruined  tower  with  its  ivy  skirting 
the  grand  entrance.  Beneath  rough  crags,  that  seem  to 
have  been  corroded  and  hollowed  by  the  tide- wash  of 
centuries,  the  Captain  (old  salt  in  his  element  then)  and 
his  land-lubber  companion  stumble  down  into  a  succession 
of  subterranean  caverns,  in  the  very  midst  of  which  the 
aquarium  dimly  shows  its  scaly  denizens,  and  where  the 
rough  sides,  encrusted  with  artificial  spar,  and  hardened 
by  the  real  drip  of  water  artistically  supplied,  the  whole 
just  enough  torch-lighted  to  make  the  sense  of  reality 
perfect,  give  evidence  of  the  fact  that  when  the  Emperor 
and  his  satellites  resolve  to  carry  out  a  project,  however 
insignificant  or  unnecessary,  they  do  it  as  Sambo  "got 
up"  his  "har"  for  the  visit  to  Susannah —  " 'gardless  of 
'spense." 

But  this  fact,  and  the  correlative  one  of  the  advantages 
for  lavish  display  which  des^Dotic  government  supplies  to 
a  ruler,  over  a  system  ordinarily  called  "constitutional" — 


156  PARIS    IN-    '67. 

these  may  well  have  been  suspected  at  an  earlier  day,  before 
the  inspection  of  the  bewildering  beauties  of  the  Pare 
Franyais — even  before  the  inauguration  of  the  great  Expo- 
sition, to  which  it  forms  a  pendant  as  costly  and  appro- 
priate as  the  diamond  drop  in  the  pearliest  ear  in  the 
world. 

The  royal  visitors  to  Paris  having  been  sufficiently  indi- 
cated, with  the  features  of  scenery  amid  which  they  moved, 
and  the  crowd  who  waited  on  their  motions — it  now 
becomes  necessary  to  interpolate  a  few  somewhat  import- 
ant descriptions  of  leading  imperial  festivities,  before  pro- 
ceeding to  notice  briefly  the  contents  of  the  Building  and 
the  Park,  of  more  or  less  special  interest  to  American 
readers. 


XV. 


THE  IMPERIAL  BALLS— BALL  OF    THE    SOVEREIGNS 
AT   THE  HOTEL  DE  YILLE. 

The  presence  of  a  "  numerous  and  reliable  corps  of  cor- 
respondents "  at  the  great  events  not  under  gubernatorial 
notice,  has  already  been  announced,  in  introducing  the 
expansive  "  Tommy,"  the  historian  of  the  Opening.  Lucky 
is  it  for  both  editor  and  reader,  probably,  that  Master 
Thomas  was  not  depended  upon  to  supply  accounts  of  the 
great  balls  given  at  the  Tuileries  and  the  Hotel  de  Ville; 
as  that  young  and  ardent  person,  with  his  strong  language 
and  ad  captandum  utterances,  might  have  made  nearly  as 
fatal  work  of  the  royal  personages  and  their  appointments 
as  the  proverbial  "  bull "  is  said  to  accomplish  "  in  a  china- 
shop,"  or  as  one  of  our  far-western.  Apaches  would  be 
likely  to  pei-petrate,  if  left  unrestrained  among  the  costly 
fittings  and  bijouterie  of  a  fashionable  up-town  residence. 

Fortunately  the  grand  balls  of  the  Exposition  have  fallen 
into  more  fitting  hands — abler  (in  their  Avay)  as  well  as 
much  fairer  ones ;  hands  that  (if  a  bad  pun  may  be  per- 
mitted on  a  gi'ave  subject)  handle  them  as  deftly  as  the 
Eastern  juggler  deals  with  those  very  difierent  globules  of 
the  same  name.  The  account  of  the  great  state  balls,  in 
short,  is  supplied  by  "The  Counselor's  Lady,"  an  old 
(young)  habitue,  of  Parisian  society,  as  well  as  of  "society  " 
in  her  own  land,  resident  in  the  capital  during  all  the  lead- 
ing events  of  the  season,  and  possessing  the  entree  wher- 
ever entrance  was  desirable,  from  the  Emperor's  box  at  the 
opera  to  the  reserved  seats  at  the  royal  receptions.     It  is 


158  PARIS    IJ^    '67. 

with  the  balls,  however,  that  she  principally  deals  in  her 
somewhat  extended  communication  ;  and  to  lier  own  recital 
they  may  be  safely  left,  without  other  introduction. 

"  I  have  promised,"  writes  the  "  Counselor's  Lady,"  "  to 
supply  you  mth  a  brief  account  of  the  most  notable  of  the 
Parisian  balls  of  the  season,  at  which  I  have  been  present. 
I  confess  that  1  tremble  a  little  at  the  thought  of  assuming 
such  a  responsibility  ;  but  one  reflection  reassures  me — not 
many  of  my  countrywomen  Avere  present  at  tbeni,  and 
those  who  were  may  have  been  as  dazzled  as  myself,  and 
not  much  more  capable  of  close  observation.  To  my  task, 
then,  with  what  courage  I  may.  Some  of  my  Pennsyl- 
vanian  ancestors  are  said  not  to  have  been  seriously  afraid 
of  bullets — why  should  their  descendants  be  of  b^u^ls  ? 

"  Royal  and  imperial  balls,  as  you  are  well  avrare,  have 
been  so  prevalent  in  Paris  since  my  advent  here  in  March, 
that  to  those  who  have  the  entree,  not  to  have  been  present 
has  become  more  of  a  distinction  than  presence  itself.  But 
there  have  been  some  of  those  events,  as  you  are  also  well 
aware,  so  raised  above  all  the  others  by  the  unlimited  cost 
bestowed  upon  them,  the  halo  of  highest  fashion  that  sur- 
rounded them,  and  the  presence  at  them  of  half  the 
crowned  heads  of  Europe,  that  beside  them  all  the  minor 
occasions,  however  brilliant,  sink  into  comparative  insig- 
nificance. 

"  There  have  been  two  of  even  the  most  notable, 
embodying  so  many  of  the  most  extraordinary  features  of 
all  the  others,  that  when  I  have  supplied  you  with  the  best 
glimpse  in  my  power  of  them,  writing  of  the  others  would 
be  but  the  weariest  repetition.  I  refer  to  what  will  no 
doubt  be  historically  called  the  '  Ball  of  the  Sovereigns,' 
given  by  the  City  of  Paris,  under  the  auspices  of  Baron 
Haussmann,  the  Prefect  of  the  Seine,  to  the  Emperor  and 
his  guest  the  Czar  of  Russia,  King  of  Prussia,  and  other 
royal  and  noble  visitors,  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  on  Satur- 


TEE    IMPERIAL    BALLS.  159 

day  evening,  the  8th  of  June;  and  the  Grand  Ball  at  the 
Palace  of  the  Tuileries,  given  by  the  Emperor  himself  to 
the  same  royal  guests  and  a  more  select  body  of  other  visi- 
tors, on  the  Monday  night  following,  the  10th  of  June — 
which  will  probably  be  known  as  the  '  Czar's  Ball,'  in  con- 
tradistinction to  the  other. 

"  Of  the  first  of  these,  again,  I  shall  supply  you  little 
more  than  a  glimpse,  avoiding  detail  and  any  attempt  at 
personal  description,  and  occupying  something  more  than 
half  my  space  with  a  relation  of  very  singular  character, 
which  will  ever  make  that  ball  most  memorable  to  me.  In 
the  later  event  I  shall  attempt  to  give  you  personal  glimpses 
of  some  of  the  notables,  and  to  convey  at  least  a  feeble 
impression  of  the  movements  incidental  to  what  was,  no 
doubt,  the  most  brilliant  assemblage  of  the  century.  To 
the  event  of  the  8th  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  then,  without 
further  preface  or  promise,  except  the  insertion  of  a  copy 
of  the  municipal  invitations  of  the  season,  and  the  instruc- 
tions as  to  dress  for  gentlemen,  accompanying — not  issued 
for  this  special  occasion,  it  is  true,  but  supplying  some 
idea  of  the  strict  though  unpretending  form  used  in  such 
instances : — 

No.  1. 


LE  SENATEUR,  PREFET  DE  LA  SEINE, 

au  nom  du  Corps  Municipal  de  Paris, 
a  Vhonneur  d'inviter 


Madame 


cL  la  Ftte  qui  aura  lieu 

d  V  Hotel  de  Ville 
le  Samedi  6  Juillet  1867,  ^9  heures. 
Ce  Billet,  rigoureusement  personnel,  aura  etre  remis  aux 
huissiers  charge  d'annoncer. 


160  PARIS   IN-   '67. 

No.  2. 


Leurs  Majestes  VEmpereur  et  VImperairice  d  les  Souverains  eirangers 
alors  a  Paris  dcvant  konorer  la  Fete  di  la  Ville  de  leur  presence,  le  Corps 
Municipal  sera  en  grand  wii/orme  avec  la  culotte  blanche. 

Les  Invites  sjnl  pries  de  vouloir  Men  etre  egalcment  en  uniforme,  ou,  a 
defaut  de  costume  official,  en  frac  avec  la  culotte  courte  ou  le  pantalon  coh 
lant. 


"  Neither  you  nor  most  of  your  readers  need  be  told 
that  the  '  City  Hall'  of  Paris  is  almost  or  quite  the  equal 
of  the  Tuileries  and  the  Louvre  in  its  arcliitecture,  and 
that  it  has  a  history  quite  as  extensive  and  interesting  as 
either ;  but  some  need  to  be  told  that  there  are  apart- 
ments in  the  Hotel  de  Ville  more  richly  decorated  and 
showing  the  evidence  of  a  costlier  taste  from  floor  to  ceil- 
ing, than  any  of  the  other  palaces  of  France  !  Yet  so  it 
is.  Here,  as  sometimes  it  used  to  be  in  London,  the  '  City ' 
occasionally  asserts  itself,  and  shows  that  when  it  will  it 
can  come  near  to  overtopping  the  '  State' — the  civic  above 
the  national — money  above  the  political  sinews  which  it 
strengthens  if  it  does  not  create  them. 

"  There  was  even  more  rarity  in  the  ball  at  the  Hotel  de 
Ville  than  in  the  grandest  at  the  Tuileries.  For  the  Im- 
perial palace  is  often  ablaze,  and  in  the  '  season '  so  many 
fetes  are  given,  that  gaieties  there  seem  to  be  things  of 
course.  But  it  is  different  at  the  civic  palace.  It  has 
not  before  been  entirely  opened  for  any  festivity,  since 
Queen  Victoria  and  Prince  Albert  were  entertained  there, 
ten  or  fifteen  years  ago — I  do  not  remember  how  many ; 
and  I  suppose  that  nothing  less  than  a  congress  of  sover- 
eigns, like  that  which  has  lately  seemed  in  perpetual  ses- 
sion in  Paris,  could  again  have  brought  the  pet  palace  of 
the  city  into  entire  requisition.  For,  apart  from  the  costly 
splendor,  it  is  no  trifle  of  space  that  is  surrendered  to  fes- 
tivity when  the  Hotel  de  Ville  is  given  up  to  it — they  say 


TEE    IMPERIAL    BALLS.  161 

the  salons,  placed  in  a  line,  would  extend  something  like 
fifteen  hundred  yards  or  little  less  than  a  mile  !  They  tell 
me,  too,  in  spite  of  my  woman's  horror  of  any  other  '  fig- 
ures'  than  those  of  beauty  or  a  cotillion — that  the  Grand 
Hall  is  nearly  two  hundred  feet  in  length  by  half  that  dis- 
tance in  width,  and  that  very  few  less  than  one  hundred 
thousand  wax-lights  are  necessary  to  bring  out  all  the 
rooms  of  the  immense  building  in  their  full  glory !  You 
can  imagine  that  they  must  be  ''occasions,'  indeed,  on  which 
this  space  is  occupied,  and  all  this  outlay  in  chandlery  jus- 
tified !  But  justified  they  were,  then,  if  ever  ;  for  did  not 
the  number  of  regular  invitations  reach  beyond  six  thou- 
sand ? — and  are  there  not  plenty  who  believe  that  the  num- 
ber present,  besides  a  perfect  assembly  of  notabilities  form- 
ing part  of  it,  must  have  reached  nearer  to  ten  thousand 
than  six?  We  have  seen  two  or  three  thousand  persons, 
on  rare  occasions,  at  our  old  New  York  Academy  of  Mu- 
sic ;  but  multiply  that  number  by  three,  or  possibly  five, 
and  the  splendor  of  each  particular  group  by  fifty  or  one 
hundred,  and  some  faint  idea  may  be  formed  of  the  guests 
of  Baron  Haussraann  on  that  Saturday  evening ! 

"  You  are  aware  what  magnificent  open  spaces  surround 
the  Hotel  de  Ville,  with  the  Rue  Rivoli  on  one  side  of  it,  and 
the  Seine  with  its  bridges  and  quays  on  the  other — with  the 
great  Caserne  Napoleon  behind  it,  but  at  a  considerable 
interval,  and  the  shops  and  houses  in  front  standing  at  a 
corresponding  shy  distance.  Well,  can  you  imagine  what 
a  crowd  it  was  that  filled  that  wide  open  space? — the  Czar 
only  just  arrived  in  Paris,  everybody  on  tiptoe  to  see  him, 
and  the  additional  incitement  of  standing  in  the  glare  of 
that  line  of  gas-lights  stretching  across  the  palace  front, 
and  seeing  hundred  upon  hundred  of  the  showiest  peo- 
ple in  Europe,  and  many  of  the  handsomest  women,  going 
by  in  the  handsomest  of  equipages,  and  to  the  most  magnifi- 
cent of  balls?    An  orderly  crowd,  I  must  admit — though  I 


162  PARIS   IN   '67. 

do  not  bglieve  in  the  good  order  or  harmlessness  of  Parisian 
populace,  as  I  may  have  after-occasion  to  tell  you  ;  but  still  a 
crowd  of  the  densest  and  most  eager  description,  making 
the  passage  of  that  wilderness  of  vehicles  almost  im- 
possible. 

"  "Were  you  ever  a  fire-fly  ? — a  will-o'-the-wisp  ? — a  fire- 
balloon  ?  or  a  comet  ?  I  suppose  not,  and  yet  I  saw  some- 
thing of  one  or  the  other,  or  of  all  of  them,  that  night, 
with  humanity  supplying  the  material !  Think  of  one  fea- 
ture of  the  arrival  of  the  Imperial  party  through  that 
crowd,  in  so  many  carriages  that  I  do  not  like  to  hazard  a 
guess  at  the  number — perhaps  twenty,  perhaps  thirty,  or 
forty;  all  guarded  down  the  side  by  squadrons  of  the 
splendidly-uniformed  and  dashing  lancers  of  the  guard  ; 
and  every  carriage,  with  its  gorgeously  appointed  occu- 
pants, lit  up  inside,  as  if  it  had  been  a  ball-room  on  its  own 
account!  Think  what  a  line  of  magnificent  will-o'the- 
wisps  that  must  have  made;  and  how  that  light  must  have 
flashed  and  glittered  to  the  eyes  of  the  crowd,  on  face  and 
figure  that  they  wished  to  recognize — on  dress  and  jewel 
and  decoration !  It  Avas  a  case  of  distinguished  people 
'making  a  show  of  themselves,'  to  please  the  public  eye — 
a  case  odd  enough  to  deserve  mention,  and  I  think  a  little 
commendation.  I  could  only  see  that  part  of  the  pageant 
for  a  few  moments,  glancing  back  from  my  carriage  as  I 
made  an  arrival  almost  late  enough  to  have  been  'royal' 
in  ray  ou^n  right;  but  I  am  not  likely  soon  to  forget  the 
general  efiect,  even  in  that  which  followed. 

'■^  Light  is  to  be  the  glory  of  the  other  spectacle,  to  be 
spoken  of  by-and-by.  Music  and  flowers  were  the  fea- 
tures of  this,  as  if  something  ugly  in  the  past  needed  to 
be  covered  up  and  danced  merrily  over.  Ugh  ! — I  wontler 
if  there  was  not?  3Ia  foif  as  my  French  hosts  say,  I 
thought  so  before  I  left  the  building ;  but  I  must  tell  you 
that  in  its  proper  place.     Music  and  flowers — flowers  and 


TEE    IMPERIAL    BALLS.  163 

music — probably  the  order  should  be  changed,  for  there 
"were  even  more  floral  glories  than  witcheries  of  sound. 

"  There  is  one  portion  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville  with  whioh 
I  know  you  are  familiar,  for  I  have  heard  you  speak  enthu- 
siastically of  it — ^the  grand  entrance  from  the  Place  de  la 
Hotel  de  Yille,  with  its  costliest  hangings  of  cloth  and  silk, 
gold-fringed  and  gold-emblemed,  sweeping  down  aronnd 
columns  that  seem  to  have  been  shaped  and  gold-incrusted 
during  some  one  of  the  many  dreams  of  the  '  Arabian 
Nights.'  There  is  nothing  like  it,  I  think,  in  the  world  ; 
as  there  is  certainly  nothing  else  that  I  have  ever  seen, 
comparable  in  costly  splendor  to  its  elaborately-decorated 
saloons,  with  their  frescoes  from  the  ablest  pencils,  their 
pauelings  in  which  cost  seems  to  have  been  entirely 
ignored,  and  their  pictures,  which  have  certainly  been 
derived  from  the  unscrupulous  '  appropriations'  of  centur- 
ies, as  well  as  from  the  '  liberalities '  of  one  of  the  richest 
cities  on  the  globe. 

"  There  may  be  more  glorious  sensations  of  being  in 
another  world  while  yet  breathing  the  breath  of  this  life, 
than  those  supplied  on  entering  the  civic  palace ;  but  I 
have  no  hope  of  ever  sharing  them,  and  it  is  not  too  sure 
that  any  accession  would  be  desirable,  even  if  one  could 
arrive  at  it.  Imagine  that  more  than  regally-splendid  ves- 
tibule, with  its  gorgeous  hangings  and  decorations,  with 
so  many  and  such  rare  flowers  decking  it  at  every  point, 
that  all  else  seemed  to  be  but  unreal  exhalations  sprung  up 
in  the  midst  of  the  most  rich  and  varied  garden  of  the 
generous  tropics — with  a  great  fountain  of  exquisite  shape 
and  detail  in  the  centre,  flashing  out  its  wealth  of  water, 
every  drop  a  gem  in  the  soft  blaz3  of  the  innumerable  wax- 
lights  that  made  doubly  beautiful  everything  upon  which 
it  radiated ;  with  all  that  could  be  devised  of  most  gor- 
geous in  attendance  and  reception,  scattered  among  all  that 
could  be  selected  of  royal,  rich,  queenly,  and  fair — pearls 


164  PARIS    IN    '6  7. 

and  diamoncls  on  brow  and  bosom  of  beauty,  answered  by 
the  flasbing  of  the  like  rare  gems  on  the  starred  and 
crossed  and  decorated  breasts  of  manbood — silks,  satins, 
and  velvets,  little  less  than  a  sea  in  wbicb  the  gazer  seemed 
to  be  floating,  swimming,  almost  drowning  ;  and  then  add 
to  this  the  most  voluptuous  music  that  ever  floated  from 
horn  or  rang  from  string,  seeming  to  drip  from  that  mar- 
vellous baton  waved  by  white-gloved  Strauss  himself — 
Strauss,  to  whose  notes,  even  when  others  gave  them  feeble 
utterance  through  picked-up  orchestras  that  had  never 
known  the  master-hand,  our  senses  have  thrilled  and  our 
feet  bounded  so  often — add  all  this,  and  throw  over  it  all 
that  glamour  which  only  comparative  youth  and  full  hap- 
piness can  bestow,  from  that  fairy-land  in  which  we  have 
all  believed  since  childhood — then  and  only  then  will  some 
dim  light  creep  into  the  eyes  and  some  suspicion  into  the 
brain,  from  that  moment  of  moments  enjoyed  on  enter- 
ing the  '  Ball  of  the  Sovereigns  '  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville. 

"But  do  not  suppose  that  either  the  splendor  or  the  in- 
terest was  exhausted  at  this  mere  first  glimpse — neither 
was  further  entered  into  than  the  building — the  vestibule 
only  in  each.  For,  the  great  esealier  once  ascended,  in  the 
midst  of  that  human,  musical  and  floral  bewilderment,  no 
less  than  a  dozen  of  those  great  halls,  an  deuxieme,  opened 
into  each  other,  all  devoted  to  the  purposes  of  the  fete,  and 
each,  as  it  seemed,  more  ravishing  than  the  others  in  the 
rarity  of  its  pictures,  the  talent  employed  upon  its  frescoes, 
the  richness  of  its  hangings,  the  softened  blaze  of  its  wax- 
lights,  and  the  sense  of  passing  into  some  new  and  charmed 
existence,  inevitable  on  entering ;  while  the  very  ingenuity 
of  taste  had  been  employed  in  creating  little  passages,  at 
the  end  of  which  came  sweet  new  surju-ises,  in  the  way  of 
rare  flowers,  more  ingenious  arrangements  of  light,  and 
temptations  to  lose  one's  self  away  from  the  present  and 
waudar  into  the  charmed  past  and  rainbow  future  of  ro- 


THE    IMPERIAL    BALLS.  165 

mance,  history,  and — let  me  be  honest  on  the  dangerous 
theme — the  intoxicating  whispers  of  love-making,  that 
might  not  have  been  indulged  in  a  more  matter-of-fact  ex- 
istence ! 

"I  have  omitted,  so  far,  one  of  the  rarest  elements  of 
pleasant  intoxication,  of  the  whole.  It  has  appeared  to 
me  that  it  should  crown  all,  and  have  no  mention  while 
any  rivalry  remained.  Does  the  thought  strike  you  what 
other  sense  must  have  been  ministered  to  than  even  the 
sight,  the  sound,  the  pride,  the  vanity,  and  the  sense  of  the 
romantic  ?  "What  must  have  been  the  perfume,  think  you, 
of  all  the  sweetest  flowers  of  all  lands,  thus  grouped  and 
gathered,  and  flung  broadcast  with  lavish  wastefulness  ? 
"What  else  than  the  very  drunkenness  of  delight  must  have 
ravished  the  sense,  when  all  the  sources  from  which  Lubin 
and  Violet  have  extracted  their  thousand  odors,  were 
blended  in  one  wealth  offrngrance,  carrying  the  weight  of 
sweetness  to  the  very  verge  of  oppression  ?  We  have  all 
heard  of  the  lady  who  '  died  of  a  rose,  in  aromatic  pain,' 
and  1  beg  you  to  believe  that  I  could  have  easily  fainted 
from  the  same  influences,  under  slight  additional  strain  of 
the  over-delighted  olfactories. 

"  Let  me  recnpitulate — something  which  they  say  is  a 
woman's  custom,  especially  in  detailing  grievances — and 
see  whether  I  have  succeeded  in  conveying  any  idea  what- 
ever of  that  wonderful  scene.  The  grand  halls  of  the  Ho- 
tel de  Ville ;  music  under  Strauss's  own  hand,  and  by  the 
orchestra  brought  by  Strauss  himself  from  Vienna ;  wax- 
lights  by  the  ten  thousand ;  flowers  by  the  literal  cart-load, 
and  perfume  with  no  measurement  but  its  own  volume ; 
ornamentation;  pictures ;  statues ;  five  or  six  thousand  well- 
dressed  '  nobodies,'  half  of  them  fair  women,  and  all  be- 
decked and  bejeweled  in  the  utmost  splendor  of  a  waste- 
ful age ;  hundreds  of  celebrities,  noble  if  not  royal,  and 
each  the  cynosure  of  many  eyes  ;  and,  to  crown  all,  emp(}- 


166  PARIS    IN    '67. 

rors,  kings  and  royal  highnesses  enough  to  have  revohi- 
tionized  a  republican  world,  each  more  or  less  resplendent 
in  court  blazonry  and  gemmed  orders,  while  on  brow  and 
bosom  of  their  ladies  blazed  diamonds  and  rubies  and 
pearls  and  sapphires,  of  such  size  and  cost  that  they  seemed 
seas  of  light  in  which  kingdoms  had  been  melted.  This  is 
what  I  saw,  quite  as  much  with  my  mind  as  my  eyes  :  this 
is  where  I  was — that  part  of  me  which  had  not  floated 
away  in  the  enchantment  of  luxurious  novelty. 

"  And  here  it  was  that  my  peculiar  adventure  occurred, 
or  seems  to  me  to  have  occurred.  Something  so  rare  and 
strange  that  in  it  all  the  other  events  of  that  more  than 
regal  night  sink  away  into  mere  shadowy  recollection. 
A  glimpse  of  tJicit,  to  which  I  almost  dread  to  allude,  on 
account  of  the  opinions  which  may  be  formed  of  the  rela- 
tion, and  the  feeling  which  even  the  recapitulation  neces- 
sarily involves,  and  then  I  shall  have  done  with  the  '  Ball 
of  the  Sovereigns.' 

"  You  are  aware  that  I  am  an  enthusiastic  reader  and 
lover  of  history,  and  that  I  have  a  weakness  for  finding 
historical  personages,  and  imagining  historical  events,  ou 
the  spots  where  the  former  moved  and  the  latter  occurred. 
Attribute  to  this,  if  you  like,  the  peculiar  incident  which 
follows,  and  the  truth  of  which  I  could  asseverate  with 
my  dying  breath  ;  or  take  the  alternative,  if  you  please, 
of  believing  that  there  are  influences  beyond  ourselves, 
shaping  peculiar  appearances,  or  that  around  certain  spots 
there  hang,  like  the  perfume  around  IMoore's  vase,  an  aro- 
ma of  the  past,  impossible  to  exorcise  through  any  lapse 
of  years,  and  liable  to  be  actively  invoked  at  any  moment. 

"It  was  perhaps  an  hour  past  midnight,  and  the  dancing 
begun  by  the  royal  party  at  shortly  after  ten,  and  contin- 
ued in  nearly  all  the  grand  salons,  amid  that  delicious 
blending  of  waltz-music  and  flower  perfume,  had  tempo- 
rarily slackened  in  its  intensity.     Only  a  few  '  sets '  kept 


TEE    IMPERIAL    BALLS.  1G7 

the  floor  in  any  of  the  rooms,  and  the  music  was  for  the 
time  light,  delicate,  and  somewhat  weirdly  German.  I 
remember  so  much,  and  not  much  more,  of  the  moment 
when  I  left  the  seat  to  which  my  last  partner  had  led  me 
after  our  charming  whirl  in  a  waltz  that  had  at  least  one 
accomjilished  performer.  I  happened  not  to  have  become 
engaged  in  any  conversation;  and  a  little  warmed  and 
breathing  short  from  the  rapid  exercise,  I  approached  an 
open  window,  looking  out  upon  the  Place  de  la  Hotel  de 
Ville,  and  passed  into  the  deep  embrasure,  where  the 
heavy  hangings  left  me  nearly  as  much  alone  as  I  would 
have  been  behind  closed  doors. 

"I  looked  out  listlessly  upon  the  Place,  dimly  lighted 
from  without,  but  the  broad  stone  esplanade  and  bordering 
circles  plainly  visible  under  the  blaze  that  streamed  from 
the  gas-lighted  front.  This  space  had  been  kept  clear  by 
the  police,  from  the  first ;  and  now  the  tired  crowd  had 
fallen  entirely  back  from  the  palace,  though  they  were 
still  dimly  visible  along  the  Rue  Rivoli  and  eastward.  1 
remember  noticing  this,  and  that  there  did  not  seem  to  be 
even  any  of  the  sergens  de  ville  on  guard  in  the  centre  of 
the  broad  Place.  Then  I  remember  being  recalled  by  the 
music,  and  thinking  that  I  was  too  weary  to  join  the  next 
'  set ;'  and  then  it  seemed  to  become  fainter,  and  I  found 
myself  thinking  of  my  dear  ones  beyond  the  sea — possibly 
at  that  moment  on  it.  Then,  so  fur  as  I  can  remember, 
thought,  as  thought,  became  rather  a  blank  abstraction 
than  a  reality.  I  seemed  to  be  not  only  shut  within  the 
window-embrasure,  but  in  a  little  world  of  my  own.  Let 
it  be  understood  that  I  was  standing,  and  that  I  was  no 
nearer  to  physical  sleep  than  I  am  at  the  moment  of  writ- 
ing. It  is  necessary  to  understand  and  believe  this, 
which  I  solemnly  aver,  in  order  to  appreciate  what 
followed. 

"  Suddenly  I  found  myself  rubbing  my  eyes,  with  a  sort 


168  PARIS    IX    '67. 

of  fancy  that  I  must  be  asleep  or  elemented.  For,  without 
my  haviug  heard  any  sound  which  could  have  justified 
Buch  an  appearance,  there  was  something  in  the  very  midst 
of  the  Place,  where  the  moment  before  I  had  seen  bare 
stones  dimly  showing  under  the  light  from  the  front 
and  the  windows.  The  'something'  was  dusky  and  tall, 
appearing  like  a  great  post  or  low  column,  and,  heaven 
help  my  senses,  I  thought,  as  the  second  consciousness  came 
to  me — it  was  growing  taller  and  wider  momentarily, 
and  something  much  broader,  like  a  platform,  rising  be- 
neath it. 

"  To  say  that  I  was  terrified  would  be  to  say  very  little 
— I  was  nearer  horrified,  under  one  dread  thought  com- 
pounded of  the  physical  and  the  supernatural  I  gripped 
the  side  of  the  window-embrasure,  and  tried  to  call  out  to 
attract  the  attention  of  others  to  this  singular  phenomenon, 
occurring  immediately  in  front  of  the  civic  palace.  I  could 
not  utter  a  word,  and  knew  that  for  the  first  time  in  my 
life  I  understood  the  meaning  of  '  the  tongue  cleaving  to 
the  roof  of  the  mouth.'  Thenceforth,  for  any  purpose  of 
life  I  might  as  well  have  been  a  post  myself,  or  part  of  the 
draped  window.  I  was  fi-ozen,  statue-like,  immovable. 
Had  I  been  frightened  before? — horror  of  horrors  I  what 
_was  I  when  a  red  hght  seemed  to  stream  from  the  Place 
beyond,  on  that  fearful  *  something,'  and  when  I  saw  that 
it  was  the  guillotine  on  its  platform — the  knife  shining 
with  a  dull  glare,  with  here  and  there  a  gout  of  rust 
that  might  have  been  formed  from  coagulated  blood? 
The  guillotine  there,  and  the  palace  full  of  the  royal,  the 
fair,  the  distinguished!  For  whom  was  it  set,  and  by 
whom?  Ah,  I  had  half  the  answer,  though  I  could  not 
understand  the  continued  silence,  so  unusual  for  Parisian 
mobs ;  for,  as  if  they  had  sprung  from  the  ground  like  so 
many  mushrooms,  the  whole  Place  seemed  filled  with  a 
dim,  shadowy,  gesticulating  crowd,  uttering   no  audible 


TEE    IMPERIAL    BALLS.  169 

word,  but  seething  and  moving  in  wild  commotion.  Ah, 
how  I  tried  once  more  to  call  out,  then  ! — with  no  more 
effect  than  had  been  produced  in  my  past  effort.  No  I 
the  guillotine  was  th^re,  the  mad  crowd  was  there — 
who  might  not  be  a  victim  ? — and  yet  I  could  give  no 
sign  of  warning !  Why  did  tbey  not  shout  as  well  as 
gesticulate,  so  that  others  might  become  aware  of  the 
awful  preparations,  and  succor  arrive  before  some  murder 
should  be  accomplished  ? 

"  How  long  this  endured,  I  do  not  know ;  it  seemed 
long — it  may  have  been  but  a  moment.  There  came  more 
than  one  new  feature  into  the  dreadful  scene.  There  were 
forms  on  the  platform — the  horrible  knife  rose  and  fell  as 
if  in  trial  of  its  readiness.  Still  no  sound.  Then  there 
was  a  movement  in  the  crowd,  and  it  seemed  to  part  into 
two  waves,  gesticulating  yet  more  wildly.  Then  through 
between  the  waves  rolled  in  a  fearful  vehicle,  half  cart  and 
half  coffin.  Soldiers  of  an  antique  uniform  guarded  it ;  and 
men  and  women,  with  wringing  hands,  were  huddled  into 
it  like  so  many  sheep  going  to  the  butcher.  It  was  the 
tumbril — I  knew  it  at  once — one  more  of  the  bygone 
horrors  was  being  revived  !  What  next  was  I  to  witness, 
on  that  night  which  had  seemed  to  me  so  splendid  in 
imagination  ? 

"  What  next  ?  This  question  again  was  answered  but 
too  soon,  while  all  the  powers  of  my  body  and  my  mind 
seemed  struggling  but  vanquished  in  the  unequal  combat 
for  expression.  Out  of  the  tumbril  stepped,  or  rather  was 
dragged,  a  woman  in  white — young,  handsome,  but  oh, 
with  such  dreadful  despair  and  horror  on  her  white  face ! 
I  saw  them  force  her  up  the  steps  of  the  platform ;  I  saw 
the  executioner  grasp  her  with  brutal  violence ;  I  saw  the 
mad  crowd  waving  arms  and  caps  in  fiendish  exultation ; 
I  saw  the  victim's  last  struggle  as  she  was  strapped  to  the 
fatal  plank  and  it  fell  horizontal ;  I  saw — 


170  PARIS    IN    'Ql. 

"  No,  thank  God,  I  did  not  see  the  descent  of  the  knife, 
the  fall  of  the  severed  head,  and  the  spouting  of  the  red 
blood  :  I  think  I  should  have  gone  mad  indeed  if  I  had 
Been  that  I  For  my  struggle  for  expression  grew  fiercer, 
and  either  life  or  bond  must  have  given  way.  Heaven 
be  praised,  I  could  scream ! — I  did  so — the  scream  subsid- 
ing into  a  moan  as  my  eyes  closed  and  I  fell  backward, 
half  out  of  the  window-embrasure,  my  fall  broken  by  the 

ever  i-eady  arm  of  Count ,  who  had  heard  my  first  cry 

and  rushed  forward  to  discover  whence  it  proceeded. 

*'  I  did  not  faint  entirely,  nor,  I  think,  did  the  incident 
produce  much  commotion  in  the  salons,  where  each  was  so 
occupied  with  some  special  thought  or  feeling  as  to  be 
naturally  oblivious  to  the  mere  cry  of  a  nervous  woman. 
Only  a  moment  later,  with  the  Count  still  at  my  side,  I  was 
again  looking  from  the  same  window,  but  upon  how  differ- 
ent a  scene  !  There  was  no  dark  '  something '  there — no 
crowd  of  fierce  and  excited  sans  culottes — guillotine,  tum- 
bril and  victims  had  all  disappeared ;  and  behind  me  the 
Bweet  Strauss  music,  the  floating  perfume,  and  the  chiming 
steps  of  the  waltzers  told  me  that  it  was  1867,  and  the 
apotheosis  of  Baron  Haussmann,  who  would  not  be  likely 
to  tolerate  any  violent  proceedings  of  that  character  in  the 
very  faces-of  his  imperial,  royal  and  noble  guests !  But  I 
remembered  then,  even  better  than  before,  that  on  the  very 
spot  where  I  had  just  seen  that  spectral  horror — there,  in 
the  middle  of  the  Place  de  la  Hotel  de  Ville,  then  the  fatal 
Place  de  Greve,  stood  the  guillotine  and  rolled  the  tumbril 
loaded  with  its  doomed,  through  all  the  Eeign  of  Terror, 
when  more  than  twenty  thousand  fell  beneath  the  knife  ! 

"  I  think  that  the  world  has  not  wealth  enough  to  tempt 
me  volimtarily  to  look  on  that  sight  again;  but  it  is  worth 
something,  even  through  that  horror,  to  have  seen,  as  I 
know  that  I  saw  with  my  waking  eyes,  though  without 
knowing  why  or  how,  the  veritable  guillotine  and  tumbril 


TEE    IMPERIAL    BALLS.  171 

of  the  days  of  blood !  Can  yoii  explain  the  mystery  to 
me  ?  No  ? — neither  can  I  to  you  ;  the  wonder  remains  as  I 
found  it.  But  you  can  imagine  that  I  have  a  special  recol- 
lection of  the  '  Ball  of  the  Sovereigns '  at  the  Hotel  de 
Ville,  more  sacred  as  more  terrible  than  all  else  in  mem- 
ory, and  that  the  imperial  and  royal  occupants  of  the  car- 
riages did  not  absorb  me  quite  so  closely  as  they  had  done, 
■when  we  rolled  away  and  the  great  pageant  faded,  at  some- 
thing near  daylight  on  Sunday  morning." 


XVI. 

THE   CZAR'S  BALL  AT   THE  TUILERIES. 

As  already  intimated,  the  "  Counselor's  Lady  "  is  also  the 
chronicler  of  the  second  and  yet  more  important,  if  less 
numerously-attended,  of  the  imperial  balls ;  and  as  her  own 
language  supplies  sufficient  comment  upon  the  difference 
of  the  two  in  scope  and  intention,  let  her  be  heard  with- 
out further  introduction. 

"  If  I  have  given  yon  a  somewhat  fearful  picture  at  the 
end  of  ray  account  of  the  ball  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville," 
resumes  the  lady,  "  I  have  something  of  a  different  sort  to 
inflict  upon  you,  in  attempting  to  give  you  some  faint  idea 
of  the  great  event  which  crowned  all — something  as  select 
and  recherche  as  the  other  had  been  extensive  and  all-admit- 
ting— the  ball  especially  given  to  the  Czar  of  Russia,  and 
attended  by  the  King  of  Prussia  and  the  immense  con- 
course of  sovereigns  and  scions  of  royal  houses,  then  in 
Paris,  on  the  following  Monday  evening,  the  10th  of  June. 

The  same  overwhelming  magnificence  of  arrangement 
and  attendance  which  makes  description  nearly  impossible, 
renders  the  occasion  the  best  worth  describing  of  its  kind 
in  all  the  annals  of  festivity.  No  monarch  upon  earth, 
past  or  present,  ever  before  so  gathered  around  hira  the 
royal  and  noble — even  if  another  has  supplied,  as  I  can 
scarcely  believe,  a  corresponding  glory  of  arena  and  lavish 
luxury  of  detail.  In  the  history  of  the  festivities  of  a 
splendid  age,  it  will  beyond  doubt  supply  a  most  memor- 
able part,  for  reasons  as  numerous  as  easily  apparent.     I 


THE    CZAR'S    BALL.  173 

can  but  wish,  now  more  than  ever,  that  my  task  had  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  a  more  practiced  chronicler. 

"  Of  all  events,  this  should  be  described  most  sensation- 
ally, and  with  least  intrusion  of  dry  details  and  descrip- 
tions ;  meanwhile,  it  unfortunately  happens  that  what  the 
body  of  readers  will  most  eagerly  desire  to  know,  with 
reference  to  it,  can  only  be  conveyed  by  those  details 
of  ceremony  and  descriptions  of  personal  appearance. 
What  can  I  do,  then,  except  try  to  be  instructive  to  the 
great  world  of  absentees,  even  at  the  risk  of  failing  to  be 
picturesque  ? 

"  And  now  for  that  feeble  glimpse  of  the  Grand  Ball,  as  it 
lingers  in  brief  memory  and  the  note-book  to  which  I  com- 
mitted some  of  my  impressions  on — I  wish  that  I  could 
say  the  following  morning,  but  candor  compels  me  to  write 
afternoon.  But  this  should  be  premised  with  the  fact  that 
in  the  place  of  the  six  to  ten  thousand  invitations  issued 
to  the  festivity  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  not  more  than  six  to 
eight  hundred  had  been  issued  to  that  at  the  Tuileries, 
while  the  command  had  been  given  that  evening  instead 
of  court-dress  should  be  assumed  by  the  gentlemen,  and 
that  something  of  the  air  and  exclusiveness  of  the  'private 
ball '  should  be  imparted  to  it  in  all  its  details.  Xot  the 
easiest  of  things  to  do,  either  in  the  '  toning  down '  of 
splendor,  or  the  imparting  of  confidence  to  guests,  as  may 
easily  be  imagined. 

"  That  particular  part  of  the  line  of  carriages  bearing 
guests,  in  which  I  happened  to  be  ensconced,  must  have 
reached  the  Gardens  of  the  Tuileries  about  half-past  nine, 
coming  across  from  the  Rue  St.  Honore  to  the  great  gate 
leading  in  from  the  Rue  Rivoliat  the  Place  desPyramides. 
The  Gardens  themselves  were  entirely  cleared ;  but  without 
the  gate,  and  in  the  wide  Rue,  sitting  in  my  open  carriage, 
I  found  the  sensation  of  the  very  worst  fright  I  ever  ex- 
perienced— a  real  human  one,  and  so  nearer  tangible  than 


174  PARIS    IN    '67. 

that  at  the  Hotel  de  Yille  ;  in  other  words,  I  came  face  to 
face  with  a  Parisian  mob,  in  what  seemed  to  be  its  most 
ferocious  aspect  before  breaking  into  open  violence  and 
the  inevitable  murder  following.  Far  as  the  eye  could  see 
in  the  comparatively  dim  light  of  the  lamps  and  the  young 
moon  hanging  in  the  west — for  the  illumination  directly  to 
be  spoken  of  had  not  yet  commenced, — a  densely-packed 
crowd  surrounded  the  gardens,  stretched  away  into  the 
distance,  pressed  close  against  gate  and  railings,  hemmed 
in  the  carriages  so  that  with  all  the  efforts  of  the  police 
they  could  scarcely  move  two  steps  forward  without  a 
check.  Workmen,  many  of  them,  from  their  blouses ; 
something  worse  than  workmen,  probably,  some  of  those 
who  wore  costlier  material  than  the  blue  chambray;  no 
small  proportion  of  women  of  the  blanchisseuse  and  wine- 
seller  condition,  capped  and  ferocious.  But  oh,  those 
visages  of  the  male  mob  of  Paris  !  Oh,  the  thin  cheeks, 
the  lowering  brows,  the  shock  heads,  the  wild,  bad  eyes 
that  scowled  half-hungry  defiance  as  the  owners  thrust 
them  into  the  very  faces  of  the  shuddering  occupants  of 
the  open  carriages  !  Oh,  the  clenching  hands,  the  mutter- 
ing lips,  the  sneering  and  yet  too-earnest  tones,  the  evi- 
dence that  only  a  spark  was  wanting  to  explode  the  mag- 
azine of  temporarily-indolent  hate — that  never  tiger  tore 
to  pieces  its  prey  with  more  demoniac  joy  than  those  '  dear 
children'  of  the  Emperor,  the  hand  of  power  for  one 
moment  lifted  from  their  necks,  would  have  shown  in  mur- 
dering the  whole  array  of  guests,  from  the  host  down- 
ward, slaying  the  male  members  of  the  cortege,  butcher- 
like, with  quick  and  sudden  blows,  and  making  a  horrible 
feast  of  rapine  and  twice-terrible  slaughter  among  the  dainty 
flesh  of  the  weak  women  who  accompanied  tliem !  Ugh, 
I  shudder  to  think  of  dozens  of  threatening,  glaring, 
frightful  faces,  thrust  into  my  own  in  the  few  moments  of 
pause  at  the  gate,  in  spite  of  the  efforts  of  the  police  to 


TEE    CZAR'S    BALL.  175 

prevent  the  outrage,  and  creating  the  same  pleasant  im- 
l^ression  of  security  as  if  a  wliole  menagerie  of  ferocious 
beasts  had  been  present,  uncaged,  and  each  held  by  only  a 
cord  of  pack-thread  that  might  snap  at  any  instant !  Yes, 
thank  you  ! — I  was  quite  near  enough  to  1793  at  that  par- 
ticular crisis,  or  at  least  I  felt  that  I  was  ;  and  I  have  no 
wish  to  make  the  nearer  acquaintance  of  those  most  polite, 
subservient  and  lamb-like  people.  I  wonder  if  the  Em- 
peror himself,  bravely  as  he  goes  among  them,  almost  or 
quite  unattended,  does  not  some  day  expect  to  see  the 
tiger  spring  and  feel  the  hot  breath  on  his  cheek  and  the 
fangs  snapping  at  his  throat  ?  A  pleasant  remembrance 
and  a  cheering  fancy,  truly  !  Possibly  we  have  had  enough 
of  this,  as  certainly  I  had  enough  of  it  in  thirty  seconds ! 

"  At  all  events  we  passed  the  gates,  after  a  brief  delay, 
and  were  in  the  Tuileries  Gardens,  set  down  at  the  grand 
entrance,  which,  as  you  will  remember,  is  in  the  centre  of 
the  garden-width  as  well  as  of  the  Palace  front.  But  just 
then,  with  the  recollection  of  my  late  fright  fresh  upon 
me,  and  with  the  magnificent '  novelty  of  the  scene  as 
alighting  royalty  and  celebrity  surrounded  me  like  an 
overflowing  wave  in  which  I  was  nothing — just  then  there 
sprung  up  a  wonder  so  overwhelming  that  I  think  every 
foot  paused  in  the  spot  where  it  had  been  resting,  and 
scarcely  a  breath  was  drawn  for  many  seconds.  Whether 
the  lights  had  before  existed  but  kept  low,  and  were  at 
that  instant  flung  into  full  blaze — or  whether  by  some  elec- 
tric arrangement  all  tlie  lighting  took  place  then  and  at 
once,  I  cannot  pretend  to  say.  I  only  know  that  in  an  in- 
stant sprung  into  full  glory,  from  mere  ordinary  evening 
light,  the  illumination  of  the  Tuileries  Gardens,  the  re- 
collection of  which  still  flashes  in  my  eyes  whenever  I 
think  of  that  evening,  as  if  some  Genie  from  the  Lnnd  of 
Fire  had  temporarily  introduced  me  to  all  the  blazing 
wonders  of  his  kingdom,  dazzled  me  to  his  heart's  content. 


176  PARIS  ly  '6  7. 

and  then  sent  me  away  again  into  the  darkness  of  the 
ordinnry  world. 

"  I  have  been  present  at  ordinary  '  illuminations '  for 
victories,  in  cities  ;  and  I  have  been  no  stranger  to  the 
mimic  or  real  glories  of  the  most  magnificently-lighted 
gardens  in  the  world ;  but  in  the  subtle  shapes  and  over- 
mastering brilliancy  of  this,  all  else  seems  to  be  dim  and 
shadowy.  Do  not  expect  me  to  describe  the  exact  pro- 
cess by  which  all  this  effect  was  accomplished.  Have  I 
not  before  told  you  that  I  was  dazzled  and  bhnded?  And 
yet  a  little  attempt  must  be  made,  to  '  save  my  credit,' 
as  we  used  to  say  when  I  was  a  school-girl. 

"  You  know  the  Gardens  of  the  Tuileries — that  portion 
of  them,  especially,  which  lie  immediately  in  front  of  the 
grand  entrance  of  the  Palace — the  wealth  of  fine  trees 
which  make  just  enough  of  shade,  in  the  daytime,  to  sup- 
ply the  loveliest  of  walks  ;  the  shrubs  from  every  clime, 
with  flowers  of  every  form  and  color,  which  make  the 
whole  nearer  portion  of  the  Gardens  one  wonderful  piece 
of  floral  embroidery.  Then  you  know,  too,  some  of  the 
fire- witcheries  of  the  Jardin  Mabille  and  the  Chateau  des 
Fleurs — the  skill  with  which  great  rows  of  lily-bells, 
which  would  seem  entirely  natural  if  they  were  not  so 
gigantic,  are  made  to  burst,  at  a  given  moment,  into  lily- 
bells  with  tongues  of  flame ;  and  how  the  globes  of  fire 
are  so  disposed  there  as  to  dazzle  anew  at  every  turn  and 
present  continual  new  groupings  of  brilliancy.  Multiply 
all  this  by  an  hundred  or  two  if  you  can ;  then  add  to  it 
little  lines  of  globed  colored  lights  creeping  around  the 
roots  of  trees  and  shrubs,  as  if  an  endless  menagerie  of 
fiery  serpents  had  been  let  out  to  twine  and  circle  every- 
where ;  and  hang  from  every  bough,  and  apparently  from 
every  cluster  of  leaves,  a  colored  globe  or  lantern,  with 
such  a  variety  in  shade  that  they  seem  to  mock  the  hues 
of  the   very   flowers    they  rival.     Extend   this    up  from 


TEE    CZAR'S    BALL.  177 

shrubs  to  trees,  until  there  seems  to  be  a  line  of  light  half- 
way skyward,  brighter  than  the  Milky  Way,  and  almost  as 
countless  as  the  orbs  composing  it ;  and  throw  over  walk 
after  walk  arches  of  delicate  pipe,  the  agency  invisible  in 
the  absence  of  daylight,  but  little  jets  of  light  shooting 
and  radiating  from  them  with  the  soft  freedom  of  so  many 
issues  of  bright  water;  then,  when  the  extreme  of  beauty 
in  fire  and  artificial  light  seems  to  have  been  reached,  let 
great  broad  flames  of  calcium  blaze  stream  down  from  airy 
distances,  continually  varying  in  color,  and  fading  and 
glowing  as  if  high  over  all  a  comet  of  ever-changing  ray 
was  shedding  down  portions  of  the  'light  which  no  mortal 
may  know.'  Let  this  all  reflect  upon  the  glory  of  Avhite 
statues  and  sparkling  fountains,  and  the  noble  front  of 
that  wilderness  of  separate  palaces,  the  Tuileries,  and  flash 
far  away  upon  the  great  column  of  the  Place  de  la  Con- 
corde, and  seem  to  light  up  the  scene  and  its  farther  banks 
on  the  one  hand,  and  to  touch  the  great  city  with  a  broad 
belt  of  flame  on  the  other.  Do  all  this,  and  bring  into  play, 
in  addition,  an  imagination  of  at  least  respectable  power, 
and  you  will  form  some  idea,  which  I  know  that  my  words 
cannot  convey,  of  the  most  magnificent  and  overwhelming 
of  all  fire  spectacles  yet  seen  by  the  people  of  this  century 
— the  illumination  of  the  Tuileries  Gardens  at  the  Grand 
Ball  to  the  Czar  and  the  King  of  Prussia — to  the  latter  of 
whom,  by  the  way,  I  believe  that  the  courtesy  was  among 
the  hollowest  paid  during  the  entire  summer,  only  that 
possibly  the  light  was  intended  to  blind  him  and  to  dazzle 
the  eyes  of  Count  Bismarck  as  to  the  real  merits  of  tha 
Luxembourg  question ! 

"  But  there  was  something  upon  which  the  blaze  of  that 
illumination  shone,  a  part  of  the  Tuileries  and  yet  not  of 
it,  which  made  the  second  notable  feature  of  that  imperial 
magnificence.  This  was  a  platform  built  especially  for  the 
occasion,  outside  one  of  the  great  drawing-room  windows, 
8* 


178  PARIS    IN    '6  7. 

approached  from  without  by  thirty  or  forty  lo\7  stepS,  and 
from  within  from  the  ball-room  floor  by  the  full-length 
window  ;  with  a  canopy  of  green  silk  and  gold,  the  Empe- 
ror's golden  bees  studding  it,  and  the  whole  so  richly 
draped  and  ornamented  w'ith  the  rarest  flowers  and  costly 
gems  of  art,  that  it  seemed  a  part  of  Aladdin's  palace  left 
behind  when  the  rest  of  the  structure  vanished.  It  was 
here  that  the  imperial  and  royal  party  sunned  themselves, 
so  to  speak,  in  that  wonderful  light,  and  added  to  the  bril- 
liancy of  the  scene,  to  near  spectators,  by  the  reflections 
on  gem  and  order  and  decoration.  The  structure  seemed 
to  belong  to  the  light,  and  the  light  to  the  structure. 
Both  were  wonderful,  unrivaled,  magnificent  in  their  way. 
Had  I  not  better  stop  before  I  exhaust  all  my  adjectives, 
especially  as  I  have  no  ordinary  scene  to  deal  with,  from 
my  limited  vocabulary,  in  the  events  of  the  evening  within 
the  palace  ? 

"  But  this  reminds  me  that  the  vestibule  was  as  far  as  I 
had  progressed.  Let  us  go  on,  for  it  is  ill  keeping  a  crowd 
of  royal  notabilities  waiting. 

"  I  thought  that  I  had  before  been  '  received  ' — more 
than  once  in  the  course  of  my  life ;  but  all  that  I  had  ever 
before  seen  of  this  detail  of  '  society '  seemed  to  me  at 
the  moment  mere  neglect  and  rudeness  beside  that  highest 
development  of  a  science  in  which  the  French  excel  all 
other  nations  as  if  they  belonged  to  a  diffierent  race.  Siich 
clouds  of  rich-liveried  attendants,  each  seeming  to  blend 
the  obsequiousness  of  the  servant  with  the  suave  dignity 
of  the  gentleman,  chanced  to  be  in  exactly  the  right  place 
at  the  moment  when  every  lady  stepped  from  her  carriage 
and  passed  within  the  vestibule,  and  so  deftly  and  quickly 
relieved  her  of  cloaks  and  wraps  and  dropped  into  her 
hand  the  little  ivory  check  that  was  to  redeeui  them,  that 
not  one  but  appeared  to  be  the  object  of  special  attention, 
and  to  have  precisely  the  proper  servant  at  her  exclusive 


THE    CZAR'S    BALL.  179 

command.  And  then  such  a  Master  of  Ceremonies  raet 
every  lady  in  the  vestibule,  just  at  the  entrance  of  the 
music-flower  atmosphere,  at  precisely  the  moment  when 
her  wraps  had  fallen,  her  robes  settled  into  graceful  fold, 
and  she  was  ready  to  do  fashionable  battle  to  the  death — 
met  each  as  if  she  alone,  of  all  that  assembly,  was  the 
object  for  which  his  unimpeachable  evening-dress  had  been 
assumed,  and  seemed  rather  to  sweep  than  conduct  her  up 
the  grand  escalier  and  toward  the  salons  of  festivity — 
that  he  seemed  to  be  multiplied  into  at  least  an  hundred, 
all  possessing  the  same  rare  qualifications. 

"  But  I  must  pause  again,  as  I  did  pause,  a  little  in  defi- 
ance of  etiquette,  at  the  escalier.  You  have  seen  that 
noble  central  staircase  of  the  Tnileries,  and  know  what 
it  is  at  ordinary  times ;  what  must  it  have  been,  think  you, 
when  the  rarest  flowers  from  all  the  world  seemed  to  have 
twined  around  it  as  if  the  hundred  years  of  a  '  Sleeping 
Beauty'  had  overgrown  the  whole  palace  with  glory  to 
hide  decay  !  But  ah,  there  were  other  and  terribly-hand- 
some flowers  there — flowers  that  had  grown  in  no  garden, 
— nothing  less  than  a  line  of  the  Emperor's  splendid,  richly- 
uniformed  six-feet  Ce7it  Gardes,  crowned  with  the  silver 
helmet  and  long  drooping  white  plume,  and  filling  each 
end  of  every  second  step  with  magnificent  and  immovable 
human  statuary  ! 

"Statuary,  indeed!  for  I  believe  that  the  palace  might 
have  burned  or  fallen  under  the  shock  of  an  earthquake, 
and  not  one  would  have  moved  without  orders — just  as  the 
stout  old  Roman  guards  at  Herculaneum  are  said  to  have 
stood  motionless  while  the  shower  of  hot  ashes  from  Ve- 
suvius gathered  up  to  their  chins  and  then  smothered  out 
their  lives. 

"  Those  splendid  fellows  not  only  seemed  immovable, 
but  were  so,  as  I  happen  to  know  ;  for  a  pleasant  but  very 
laughable  contretemps  occured  just  when  I  was  on  one  of 


180  PARIS   IN   '67. 

the  lowest  steps  of  the  escalier,  some  hint  of  wbicli  has 
already  crept,  as  I  see,  into  the  French  newspapers.  It 
created,  for  a  moment,  quite  a  buzz  among  those  who 
observed  and  understood  it,  and  would  have  forced  a  smile, 
I  think,  even  from  the  grave  lips  of  the  Emperor,  Miss 
H ,  one  of  our  pretty  little  American  belles  par  excel- 
lence, finding  her  slipper  loosened  when  half-way  up  the 
stair,  stopped  and  stooped  to  fasten  it,  leaning  against 
what,  from  its  immovability,  she  took  to  be  one  of  many 
statues  of  military  personages  lining  the  steps.  It  was  the 
form  of  a  Cent  Garde  against  which  she  supported  herself 
by  one  hand  and  her  snowy  left  shoulder ;  and  that  form 
remained  as  stony  and  motionless,  outwardly,  as  the 
statue  could  have  been — whatever  the  sensations  that  may 
have  surged  through  the  pulses  of  the  soldier  at  being  thus 
brought  within  touch  of  a  warm  breathing  beauty  so  far 
beyond  his  ordinary  reach.  The  silent  figure  breathed, 
however,  even  if  lightly ;  and  the  lady's  absorbed  senses 
finally  took  the  alarm  at  feeling  a  trembling  motion  under 
her  hand ;  so  that,  with  a  pretty  scream,  half  fright  and 
half  apology,  she  drew  herself  suddenly  away,  forced  on 
the  refractory  slij^per,  and  tripped  up  the  escalier  a  little 
more  nimbly  than  she  liad  intended. 

"  But  what  a  spectacle  met  the  unaccustomed  eye  and 
even  dazzled  one  used  to  festive  splendors,  when  we  had 
been  marshaled  by  the  courteous  Master  of  Ceremonies 
through  two  magnificent  salons,  au  deuxieme,  each  per- 
fect in  frescoes  and  decorations,  regal  in  its  appointments 
and  furniture,  blooming  with  flowers  and  ablaze  with  a 
thousand  lights,  into  the  grand  salle  da  trone  of  the  even- 
ing— the  great  ball-room  of  the  Tuileries!  You  know 
the  wonderful  size  of  that  room,  though  I  suppose,  like 
myself,  you  could  not  render  the  result  in  feet  and  inches 
— only  say  '  one  of  the  largest  in  the  woi'ld,'  and  certainly 
*  one  of  the  most  gorgeous.'    Frescoes,  gilded  ornamenta- 


TEE    CZAR'S    BALL.  181 

tion,  rare  flowers  in  matchless  profusion  in  raised  vases, 
a  great  candelabra  radiating  softest  and  yet  most  brilliant 
light  from  so  many  points  that  it  seemed  to  be  a  blending 
of  sun  and  moon  just  overhead — I  do  not  see  how  you  can 
do  otherwise  than  receive  these  little  descriptive  items  in 
the  gross,  and  apply  and  elaborate  them  at  your  leisure. 

"  And  here  a  word  of  the  lights.  I  have  used  the  phrase 
'candelabra'  instead  of  'chandelier,'  which  really  means 
the  same  thing — because  the  first  conveys  a  more  nearly 
correct  idea.  Do  you  suppose  that  the  Tuileries  is  lighted 
with  gas  for  festive  occasions  ? — that  female  beauty,  which 
I  must  own  to  be  sometimes  a  trifle  delicate  and  in  need 
of  nursing,  is  at  such  times  subjected  to  the  searching  influ- 
ences of  that  inflammable  discovery  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury ?  If  you  do,  you  err  seriously  :  the  same  description 
of  light  which  shone  iipon  Marguerite  de  Yalois  and  Marie 
de  Medicis,  radiates  upon  Eugenie  de  Montijo  and  her 
attendant  luminaries.  Wax-candles — nothing  else  through- 
out ;  wax-candles  in  such  unlimited  profusion  that  the  pro- 
duction of  a  world  would  seem  to  be  consumed  in  a  single 
evening ;  but  nothing  more  glaring  on  the  female  cheek, 
on  such  occasions,  than  this  soft  kiss  of  warm  golden 
splendor,  which  takes  away  pallor  where  it  exists,  and  does 
not  deal  too  harshly  with  rouge  and  enamel.  There  !  I 
have  let  you  into  one  of  the  secrets  of  my  sex  ;  let  me  catch 
you  making  undue  use  of  the  admission  if  you  think  it 
advisable ! 

"  But  now  I  know  that  you  are  impatient,  or  at  least 
your  readers  will  be,  to  see  more  closely  some  of  the  royal 
and  other  celebrities  occupying  their  position  in  the  grand 
salon^  and  to  hear  of  the  action  of  the  ball  proper.  Know, 
then,  that  at  the  end  of  the  room  right  from  the  entrance 
there  was  a  raised  dais  or  platform,  richly-carpeted,  and 
with  two  carpeted  steps  leading  up  to  it ;  that  on  the  dais 
were  precisely  twenty-five  chairs — I  think  that  for  some 


1S2  PARIS    IN'     '67. 

reason  or  other  I  counted  them  a  dozen  times  over ;  and 
that  on  and  around  that  dais,  during  the  evening,  shone  the 
great  luminaries  in  whose  blaze  we  were  all  basking — 
republicans  quite  as  much  as  any  of  the  others. 

"  I  should  say,  however,  that  the  imperial  party  entered 
the  salon  after  the  most  of  the  company  had  assembled — 
perhaps  at  about  ten  or  half-past ;  and  I  cannot  find  a  more 
appropriate  place  than  the  present  to  tell  you  of  a  little 
incident  connected  with  their  entrance,  which  the  news- 
paper people  are  quite  likely  to  omit,  intentionally  or  other- 
wise, and  which  seemed  to  me  to  display  one  of  two  things 
in  the  Empress — wonderful  chUdish  naivete,  or  wonderful 
artful  mannerism  of  a  peculiar  character.  The  Empress 
entered  on  the  arm  of  the  Czar  of  Russia  as  the  special 
guest  of  the  evening,  the  Emperor  and  other  notabilities 
immediately  before,  behind,  and  around.  Of  course  she 
was  at  the  moment  engaged  in  the  very  highest  exercise 
of  hospitality — introducing  a  guest  and  endeavouring  to 
place  him  at  ease ;  and  yet  can  you  imagine  what  she  did  ? 
I  do  not  think  it  at  all  probable  that  six  hours  could  have 
elapsed  since  her  last  sight  of  the  Duchess  Anna  Murat 
de  ^louchy,  who  has  been  for  some  time  one  of  her  pets ; 
but  at  all  events  she  left  the  arm  of  the  Czar,  without  a 
word  of  apology,  rushed  one-third  of  the  way  across  the 
room,  with  the  air  of  a  mother  flying  to  a  beloved  child  not 
met  for  a  twelve-month,  seized  and  kissed  the  young 
Duchess  in  a  way  that  I  can  only  describe  as  devouring 
— leaving  the  Czar  in  what  I  could  see  was  a  very  awkward 
position,  stopping  the  whole  progress  of  the  imperial  party, 
and  causing  the  Emperor  to  look  at  her  in  a  manner  which 
would  not  have  been  pleasant  if  Z  had  been  the  subject  of 
the  glance  and  the  gazer  my  husband!  This  may  have 
been  quite  '  the  thing  to  do ' — probably  it  was ;  at  all 
events  it  was  what  we  call  '  stagey,'  and  I  should  not  have 
liked  to  risk  the  impression  of  my  being  underbred,  had  I 


TEE    CZAR'S    BALL.  183 

performed  the  same  evolution  under  similar  circum- 
stances. 

"The  dais  found  its  occupants  at  last,  and  I  shall  en- 
deavor to  give  you  a  brief  descriptive  word  of  a  few 
who  then  and  later  filled  the  chairs  on  it,  as  I  saw 
them  then  and  to  a  better  advantage  afterward,  when 
dancing  or  moving  among  the  guests. 

"  First,  the  Czar  of  Russia,  the  special  guest  of  the  even- 
ing— a  tall,  large  man,  moustached,  broad-faced,  inclined  to 
be  blonde  and  northern-looking  as  well  as  fine-looking — 
older  than  most  of  his  pictures,  and  beginning  to  remind 
one  of  his  imperial  and  imperious  father,  Nicholas.  He 
would  have  looked  much  better,  I  thiak,  in  anythrog  else 
than  his  complete  suit  of  white  cloth  covered  with  orders — 
the  genei'al  effect  so  unusual  to  our  'evening'  eyes. 

"  The  Empress  entered  with  the  Czar,  leaned  on  his  arm, 
and  sat  beside  him  on  the  dais ;  and  she  is  well  entitled  to 
a  place  as  early  as  the  second.  She  is  certainly  very  hand- 
some yet,  and  wears  her  dignity  proudly  ;  though  not 
even  my  regard  for  my  o  wn  sex  can  prevent  my  noticing 
that  she  is  losing  something  of  her  fine  outline  of  form  as 
she  grows  a  shade  stouter,  and  that  the  once  clear  skin  is 
thickening  so  that  the  veins  on  the  temples  need  to  be  sup- 
plied artificially  instead  of  showing  through  as  they  used 
to  do.  I  should  do  very  little  violence  to  my  impressions, 
in  applying  to  herthe  well-known  alliteration,  'fair,  fat  and 
forty' — somehow  that  is  her  atmosphere.  She  was  heavily 
enameled,  very  decollete,  and  a  little  sad-faced  when  in 
repose,  as  she  may  well  have  been,  even  in  the  midst  of 
these  splendors.  Her  outer  adornings  certainly  won  my 
eyes,  if  I  could  speculate  upon  her  physique.  She  wore  a 
robe  of  some  while  Algerian  silk  material,  with  a  thread  of 
silver  running  through  it,  and  bias-flounced  ;  a  ribbon  bow 
of  diamonds  on  the  right  shoulder,  fiistening  a  broad  tri- 
colored  ribbon  which  crossed  the  breast  and  ended  in  a 


184:  PARIS    IIT    '67. 

jeweled  order  at  the  left  hip;  a  necklace  of  black  velvet, 
closely  studded  with  solitaire  diamonds  of  great  size  and 
beauty,  with  depending  stvijDS  of  strung  solitaires  falling 
fern-like  down  bosom  and  back,  until  they  almost  formed  a 
covering  for  what  otherwise  had  none  ;  a  bouquet  of  lilies- 
of-the  valley  in  her  hand,  and  a  heavy  diamond  circlet 
or  demi-crown  spanning  her  front  head,  which  she  had 
removed  during  the  course  of  the  evening,  because  it  either 
was,  or  ought  to  have  been  thougJit,  too  heavy  for  comfort. 
If  the  Anna  de  Mouchy  demonstration  was  real,  so  was 
this,  probably ;  if  otherwise,  this  may  have  been  a  strip 
of  the  same  pattern. 

"  But  I  must  pause  here  again  to  make  an  explanation, 
covering — or  perhaps  the  opposite — others  than  the  Em- 
press. I  have  spoken  of  her  as  being  '  very  decollete,'  and 
'  heavily  enameled.'  There  is  no  occasion  of  repeating  the 
terras  for  each  of  the  female  notabilities  present,  though  I 
might  do  so  with  propriety  for  most  of  them — all,  certainly, 
except  the  very  young.  '  Very  decollete  '  does  not  express 
the  whole  fact,  at  all,  with  the  Empress.  She  had  about 
four  inches  of  waist  above  the  belt.  She  was,  to  use  plain 
words,  half-naked.  So  were  her  guests;  so  were  her 
maids-of-honor ;  we  were  all  more  or  less  half-naked. 
Either  I  should  not  much  have  cared  to  have  my  husband 
see  me  at  that  juncture,  or  I  should  have  prefei-red  to  have 
him  see  me  only  ! 

"Then  as  to  the  enameling!  The  Empress  could  no 
more  have  shown  her  natural  face  than  changed  the  length 
of  her  D'Alba  nose.  Nor  could  any  of  the  rest  of  us — we 
were  enameled,  rouged,  daubed,  plastered — artistically,  of 
course,  but  nevertheless  daubed  and  plastered.  Felix,  the 
wonderful  'artist'  of  the  Rue  St.  Honore,  made  me  up, 
coated  me,  finished  me  off,  as  if  I  had  been  a  building  and 
he  a  stone-mason.  I  was  very  handsome,  when  he  had 
done  with  me,  but  I  was  not  myaelf  by  any  manner  of 


THE    CZAR'S    BALL.  185 

means;  I  looked  in  the  mirror,  and  fell  in  love  with  the 
girlish  face  that  I  saw  there — something  that  I  am  not 
vain  enough  to  do  habitually.  So  let  it  be  understood  that 
we  all  more  or  less  wore  masks  that  evening ;  and  if  any 
of  my  linrried  descriptions  fliil  to  convey  an  idea  of  the 
actual  people,  the  fault  will  not  be  mine,  but  Felix's  or  that 
of  some  brother  '  artist.'  The  descriptions  will  be  of  ichat 
I  saw. 

"And  now  to  the  Emperor  and  his  special  companion 
of  the  evening,  the  sister  of  the  Czar — Grand  Duchess 
Marie  something,  if  I  do  not  misremember  the  name. 

"  The  Emperor  was  among  the  best-dressed  men  pres- 
ent ;  certainly  among  the  most  modest,  in  his  plain  black 
evening  suit,  with  no  startling  ornament  whatever,  except 
the  broad  red  ribbon  of  Grand  Commander  of  the  Legion 
of  Honor,  which  crossed  his  breast,  and  the  great  star  of 
the  Order,  one  side  of  which  showed  from  under  his  lapel. 
But  oh,  his  face !  that  took  away  all  thought  from  his  gar- 
ments !  He  looked  so  listless,  so  lifeless,  so  distrait,  so 
broken  ! — so  impossible  to  be  amused  even  by  the  pleas- 
ant attentions  of  the  Grand  Duchess,  so  much  as  if  his 
thoughts  were  upon  a  distracted  kingdom,  a  hostile  Europe, 
a  sick  boy,  and  Maximilian  in  peril  of  his  making !  And 
yet  the  face  seemed  nobler  then  than  I  had  ever  before 
seen  it ;  and  more  than  once,  yes,  more  than  twice,  when 
be  folded  his  arms  a  little  wearily  and  seemed  to  say  :  'Ah 
me  I — I  wish  all  this  mockery  was  over  ! '  the  resemblance 
in  face  and  figure  to  the  pictures  of  the  First  Napoleon 
was  startingly  marked  and  suggestive.  'I  caught  myself 
asking,  when  the  likeness  struck  me  once  and  again — What 
does  this  mean?  Is  it  family,  all? — or  position?  or  some- 
thing else  about  which  people  do  not  care  to  talk,  and  about 
which  a  mere  guest  at  one  of  his  balls  had  probably  as  well 
avoid  gossipping  ? 
"There  was  nothing  special  about  the  Russian  Grand 


186  PARIS    IN   '67. 

Duchess,  a  tall,  dark-haired  woman  of  forty  or  fifty,  with  a 
pleasing  manner,  nothing  marked  except  her  diamonds, 
which  were  of  wonderful  size,  profusion  and  lustre.  The 
Emperor  was  evidently  pleased  with  her,  and  as  attentive 
as  a  distrait  man  could  be,  whose  heart  and  brain  were 
absorbed. 

"  Next,  by  right  of  power  if  for  no  other  cause,  came 
the  King  of  Prussia,  a  tall  man,  young-looking  for  his 
advancing  years,  moustached  and  side-whiskered,  scarcely 
seeming  to  have  strength  and  stamina  to  command  the 
success  so  literally  showered  upon  him  within  the  past  two 
years.  But  perhaps — ah,  here  was  the  answer  to  my 
doubt,  in  the  very  tall  man,  plainly-dressed  and  with  few 
decorations,  who  approached  and  took  me  by  the  hand  in 
recognition  of  a  previous  presentation. 

"  Bismarck  !  sharp  ringing  Sclavonic-sounding  name  of  a 
strange  man,  who  is  certainly  one  of  the  '  men  of  the  day.' 
Very  tall,  as  I  have  before  said ;  rather  angular  in  figure  ; 
blonde;  bald;  small-headed;  moustached;  with  large  pro- 
truding blueish-gray  eyes  ;  his  whole  manner  something 
that  cannot  be  described,  while  it  does  not  appear  to  be 
anything  seriously  difterent  from  the  common — a  mnnner 
urbane  and  courteous  at  will,  but  evidently  capable  of  being 
something  very  different  when  the  other  side  of  the  will 
is  aroused.  I  found  time  and  opportunity  for  a  chat  with 
the  man  who  has  given  the  first  effectual  check  to  the 
world's  worst  tyrant,  Austria  ;  told  him  the  ti-uth,  that  I 
had  rather  made  his  acquaintance  than  that  of  any  other 
man  in  Europe,  and  had  the  pleasure  of  being  assured  that 
such  words  from  American  lips  were  always  welcome,  as 
he  felt  fully  convinced  of  the  sympathy  of  the  best  Amer- 
ican statesman  with  his  efforts  and  policy;  and  then  the 
'  man  of  the  day '  passed  away  into  the  whirl  of  other 
conversationists. 

"  Here  my  eyes  again  catch  the  sweet  azure  orbs  of  Anna 


TEE    CZAR'S    BALL.  187 

Murat  de  Mouchy,  an  American  girl  by  birth  and  early 
residence,  as  you  are  aware ;  and  I  half  forgive  the  Empress 
her  aiFectation — if  it  was  one — of  being  hungry  to  kiss 
her  !  A  perfect  blue-eyed,  sweet-faced  blonde,  of  medium 
height,  or  perhaps  a  line  less,  looking  twenty  or  twenty- 
two,  with  splendid  neck  and  arms,  altogether  fine  plump 
figure,  and  a  manner  so  sunshiny  and  genial  that  no  won- 
der the  Parisians  sometimes  call  her  'Xa  Petite  Chaton^ 
literally,  '  the  Pet  Kitten,'  She  wore  ablue  tarlatane,  with 
all  her  jewelry  in  large  blue  turquoises — a  combination  Avhich 
would  have  been  fearfully  trying  to  most  complexions  ;  but 
to  hers — Rubens  might  have  come  back,  specially  to  paint 
that  exquisite  propriety  of  form  and  adornment. 

"  The  Prince  of  Wales,  in  black  evening  dress,  with  the 
jeweled  Star  of  the  Garter  his  only  decoration — looking 
manlier,  and  handsomer,  and  yet  less  lovable  than  as  we 
saw  him  when  yet  a  mere  boy.  He  has  evidently  more 
talent  of  a  certain  kind  than  we,  or  England,  thought :  it 
is  sad  to  fear  that  the  son  of  a  noble  father,  and  a  good, 
even  if  crotchety  mother,  may  be  found  to  have  less  prin- 
ciple than  had  been  hoped.  The  Prince  of  Wales  has  filled 
too  many  mouths  in  Paris,  during  the  season  ;  let  us  turn 
to  his  sister — 

"'Princess  Alice  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland,'  as  she 
is  designated  in  royal  ceremonials  ;  a  modestly-dressed  and 
most  lovable-looking  girl,  blonde,  sweet-faced,  and  radiating 
the  veiy  soul  of  goodness  in  her  smiles.  Queen  Victoria 
is  at  least  happy  in  her  daughters. 

"  Let  me  present  a  foil  to  the  sweet  young  English  prin- 
cess, in  one  whom  I  saw  standing  near  her  at  a  certain 
moment — the  Princess  Metternich,  twenty-five  or  six,  tall 
and  angular,  with  an  apish  face,  '  dressed  to  death '—  as 
our  mothers  used  to  say — gaudily,  and  with  too  many  dia- 
monds ;  in  the  habit  of  driving  a  yellow  chariot,  and 
reputed  to  be  *fast'  and  shameless  as  she  is  hideously 


188  PARIS   IR    '67. 

ugly.  Ugh  !  it  is  no  trouble  to  turn  away  from  her,  in 
spite  of  the  flash  of  her  hereditary  diamonds  and  that  grand 
ball  of  her  own,  in  which  she  succeeded  in  vieing  with  the 
Russian  embassy,  rivaling  the  Emperor  as  to  cost  and 
splendor,  and  making  herself  conspicuous  to  her  fullest 
desire.  Mem. — I  did  not  go  to  that  ball.  I  should  like  to 
have  been  caught  putting  myself  under  obligations  to  such 
a  hostess ! 

"  Prince  Napoleon,  fat  and  quiet — they  say  he  has  been 
a  good  deal  crushed,  lately,  though  he  may  be  only  '  biding 
his  time ' — his  face  a  heavy  First  Xapoleon,  and  his  brow 
sombre.  The  Princess  Clothilde,  his  wife,  and  as  you 
remember,  a  daughter  of  the  King  of  Italy — looking  as 
homely  and  as  much  like  a  short-nosed  brownie  as  ever, 
though  good  beyond  a  doubt,  and  beginning  to  show  tafade 
suspicion. 

"  Count  de  la  Ferriere,  First  Chamberlain  to  the 
Emperor,  Master  of  Cei*emonies  by  right  of  his  office,  and 
by  that  far  better  right  of  being  the  very  Admirable  Crich- 
ton  of  all  accomplishments.  The  Count  must  be  fifty  or 
fifty-five,  but  looks  younger — gray,  with  a  fine  profile,  the 
courtliest  manners  imaginable,  and  considered  the  hand- 
somest gentleman  at  court.  He  has  the  reputation  of 
having  been  the  most  successful  in  his  attentions  to  Ameri- 
can ladies,  of  any  living  Frenchman ;  and  as  a  pendant  to 
tliis  it  is  also  reported  that  he  is  under  engagement  of  mar- 
riage to  an  American  belle,  Miss  X ,  who  will  thus 

enter  permanently  into  the  charmed  inner  circle  of  Paris- 
ian court-life. 

"One  more  hasty  portrait  of  a  Parisian  celebrity,  before 
passing  to  another  detail  that  may  prove  of  more  interest 
\i  America.  My  presentation  to  Count  Bismarck  had  been 
originally  made  by  the  gentleman  of  whom  I  am  about  to 
say  a  word — Colonel  O'Gorman-Mahon,  once  a  rival 
of   O'Connell   in   populai'ity    and  power   in   the    feritish 


THE    CZAR'S    BALL.  189 

Parliament — friend  of  "Bismarck  and  many  other  leading 
European  statesmen,  and  a  man  of  markedly-fine,  tall  per- 
sonal appearance,  in  spite  of  his  age — as  well  as  the  very 
highest  type  of  the  Irish  gentleman.  I  need  scarcely  say 
that  he  is  a  cousin  of  Mr.  Richard  O'Gorman,  the  distin- 
guished Irish- American  member  of  the  New  York  bar,  who 
is  well  known  to  he  a  scion  of  that  proud  old  Hiber- 
nian family.  The  gallant  and  courteous  old  gentleman  has 
not  forgotten  his  native  land,  by  the  way;  for,  after  much 
friendly  conference,  pointed  by  not  a  few  favors  at  court, 
he  spoke  warmly  of  his  kinsman  on  the  American  side  of 
the  Atlantic,  and  kindly  gave  me  letters  to  Mr.  Richard 
O'Gorman's  parents,  still  living  in  Ireland,  which  I  shall 
some  day  be  but  too  happy  to  present  and  avail  myself  of 
their  prestige.* 

"  And  now  a  few  words  of  the  Americans  present ;  for 
I  am  by  no  means  disposed  to  run  through  the  catalogue 
of  royal  and  princely  nobodies.  I  think  that  there  were 
not  more  than  thirty  or  forty  of  our  country-people,  alto- 
gether, at  the  Tuileries  that  night,  though  the  country  was 
far  from  being  ii!  represented  ;  and  in  the  midst  of  other 
surroundings,  I  only  saw  and  recognized  a  few — only  four, 
I  think — of  male  Americans :  Commissioners  Charles  B. 
Seymour  and  Frank  Leslie,  both  of  Xew  York,  looking 
blythe  and  debonair,  as  is  the  wont  of  both ;  Senator 
Sherman,  who  seemed  to  be  abstractedly  thinking  about 
the  Capitol  at  "Washington  ;  and  General  Dix,  military- 
looking,  in  spite  of  the  years  and  white  hairs  which  seem 
to  stamp  him  as  almost  too  old  for  his  arduous  position. 

"  By  right  of  justice,  Mrs.  General  Dix  and  her  daughter 
should  come  first  among  the  ladies,  as  they  accompanied 
the  ambassador.  Mrs.  Dix,  gray  but  energetic-looking, 
and  creating  an  impression  of  supplying  much  of  the  vigor 
of  the  family — to  give  it  no  stronger  name ;  Miss  Kate 
Dix,  a  pet  in  Paris  ever  since  her  advent  here,  tall,  blonde 

♦  Since  the  above  was  in  type,  the  regretted  death  of  Mr.  Eichsrd  O'Gonnan,  8r., 
has  been  anaounced. 


190  PARIS    I2T    '6  7. 

and  handsome,  but  with  a  face  somewhat  too  severe  and 
reticent  for  her  years.  But  here  I  must  fall  into  the  Jen- 
kinsian  initials,  for  I  have  done  with  public  names.     Mrs. 

R ,  a  pretty  and  well-figured  blonde,  attracting  very 

marked  attention  among  people  whose  attention  is  distinc- 
tion.    Mrs.  P ,  strikingly  well  dressed,  very  attractive 

without  being  strictly  handsome,  and  quite  dividing  atten- 
tion with  the  lady  last  named.     Mrs.  M S ,  of  Fifth 

Avenue,  carrying  much  of  the  atmosphere  of  Murray  Hill 
in  her  rich  robes,  fine  jewelry  and  proud  bearing.     Mrs. 

B S ,  of  New  York  and  Staten  Island,  plumply 

handsome,  with  fine  dark  eyes,  unimpeachably  well  dressed, 
and  apparently  as  much  at  home  at  the  Tuileries  as  she 

could  have  been  in  her  own  drawing-room.     Miss  B 

V ,  of  Kentucky,  blonde  and  sweet-looking,  and  con- 
sidered one  of  the  handsomest  women  present,  chaperoned 
by  the  lady  last  named,  and  pleasingly  representing  the 
*  Border  States.' 

"  There  was  one  other  American  lady  present,  the  last  I 
can    name,   and   worthy   of    separate   mention — Madame 

E ,  a  small,  wiry  woman,  approaching  middle  age,  and 

at  the  first  glance  not  attractive,  but  with  a  world  of  man- 
aging intellect  under  her  brown  hair  and  flashing  out  of 
her  brown  eyes — a  smart,  active,  diplomatic  woman,  said 
to  have  more  influence  at  court  than  any  other  American 
lady  at  Pai'is,  and  certainly  one  of  the  most  valuable  friends 
that  American  society-seekers  have  found  during  the 
imperial  festivities. 

"  And  now  enough  of  personal  glimpses,  few  and  imper- 
fect as  they  have  been.  A  little  time  and  space  must 
suffice  me  for  the  action  of  the  ball,  which  did  not  wait,  in 
reality,  so  long  as  I  have  kept  it  waiting  in  description. 

"  The  Emperor  and  Empress  did  not  dance.  The  latter 
was  no  doubt  prevented  by  the  ill  health  of  the  Prince 
Imperial,  and  the  former  by  his  own  ill  health  and  the 


THE    CZAR'S    BALL.  191 

unfortunate  Mexican  perils  just  then — though  we  did  not 
know  how  nearly — closing  around  poor  Maximilian.  Of 
course  no  one  else  danced  before  or  at  the  same  time  with 
the  royal  party,  for  Avhich  two  quadrilles  of  eight  com- 
menced at  about  eleven  o'clock,  led  by  the  Prince  of  Wales 
and  other  youthful  potentates  in  embryo.  There  was 
nothing  peculiar  in  these  quadrilles,  for  monarchy  'kicks 
up  its  heels  '  very  much  like  common  humanity — except 
that  the  many  gems  and  jeweled  orders  produced  a  bril- 
liant effect  when  in  motion,  and  that  the  lovely  Princess 
Metternich  tripped  during  the  course  of  it,  fell  sprawling, 
and  raised  another  of  those  general  commotions  from  which 
I  would  always  prefer  to  be  excused,  even  if  I  had  more 
grace  than  she  to  make  the  operation  less  embarrass- 
ing! 

"  The  opening  quadrilles  over,  as  if  there  had  been  some 
arduous  labor  demanding  recompense,  came  the  distribu- 
tion of  presents  to  the  favored  participators — elegant  little 
bouquets  of  the  rarest  and  costliest  flowers,  shaped  into 
Bymbols  of  various  orders  and  held  together  by  gemmed 
ribbons.  Then,  '  the  King  of  Persia  having  dined,  the  rest 
of  the  world  might  go  to  dinner ;'  the  royal  party  returned 
to  their  dais,  to  the  Aladdin  balcony  or  the  reserved  gar- 
dens, where  living  flowers,  fountains,  concealed  music,  and 
all  the  other  other  appliances  of  luxury,  made  up  the 
most  perfect  dream  of  enchantment — or  mingled  with 
guests  on  the  floor,  and  dancing  became  as  general  as  the 
severe  rules  of  etiquette  and  the  limited  number  allowed  to 
take  the  floor  at  once,  could  well  permit.  But  the  truth 
is — and  you  may  print  this  in  smaller  type,  as  a  secret,  if 
you  like — that  flirting  is  quite  as  much  the  business  of  a 
Parisian  ball,  as  dancing ;  so  that  the  rules  did  not  press 
with  undue  severity. 

"  I  have  said  that  the  dancing  began  at  about  eleven. 
It  was  about  one  when   the  company  moved  from   the 


192  PARIS    IN    '6  7. 

grand  salon  to  the  great  dining-hall,  ushered  with  the 
same  ceremonies  which  had  marked  their  entrance. 

"  Scarcely  the  '  company  '  however — only  a  part  of  it ; 
not  more  than  two  or  three  hundred  fonnd  place  in  that 
magnificent  banqueting-hall  of  the  Tuileries,with  its  reple- 
tion of  frescoes,  gilding,  flowers,  and  waxen  illuminations. 
After  the  guests  were  seated  with  the  due  order  of  prece- 
dence, at  tables  radiant  with  every  variety  of  costly  service, 
and  loaded  with  (hot)  soups,  meats,  and  costly  confections 
— the  imperial  party  were  announced  and  passed  through 
in  a  body  to  the  separate  dining-hall  provided  for  them 
nt  one  side  of  the  great  hall — the  guests  rising  and  cheer- 
ing with  much  enthusiasm  as  they  passed,  whether  in 
honor  of  royalty  or  at  the  near  prospect  of  supper  I  con- 
fess that  I  did  not  stop  to  inquire,  though  I  gave  my  little 
woman's  cheer  with  the  rest  ! 

"This  -imperial  dining-hall,  at  the  left,  was  raised  a 
little  above  the  main  hall,  and  full  glimpses  could  be 
caught  of  it  through  the  open  doors,  while  the  supper  was 
in  progress.  It  was  splendidly  decorated  with  flowers, 
fountains  over  which  gauze  prevented  undue  dampness 
from  filling  the  atmosphere,  the  flags  of  the  difierent 
nations  etc. ;  while  it  was  worth  something  to  see,  for 
once,  what  are  the  meanings  of  the  phrases  '  plate  '  and'  table 
Bervice,'  when  they  apply  to  gold,  silver-gilt,  gem-incrusta- 
tions and  lavish  splendor  generally,  devoted  to  the  satis- 
fying of  royal  palates.  But  I  said  that  monarchs  danced 
like  other  mortals :  so  they  ate  and  drank,  as  we  observed 
them  through  the  open  doors — with  no  more  of  dignity 
than  the  occupants  of  the  great  hall,  and  I  fancy  without 
keener  appetite;  for  there  is  nothing  better  calculated  to 
sharpen  the  taste  than  dancing,  fatigue,  and  supper  at 
half-past  one ! 

"My  rambling  story  of  the  Grand  Ball  to  the  Czar — and 
I  fear  it   has  been  a  dry  one — is  nearly  over.     It  only 


TEE    CZAR'S    BALL.  193 

remains  to  say  that  the  large  number  of  other  guests,  who 
failed  to  reach  the  great  hall,  were  otherwise  accommo- 
dated ;  that  after  supper  we  were  ushered  into  another 
apartment,  where  ices,  jellies,  and  the  most  delicate  of 
cooling  confections  awaited  us ;  that  dancing  was  resumed 
on  return  from  supper,  and  continued  until  half-past 
three — the  royal  party  leaving  somewhat  earlier,  perhaps 
at  half  past  two ;  that  again,  on  leaving,  came  the  Master 
of  Ceremonies,  the  accurate  and  yet  not  disagreeable 
formalities,  the  wonderful  attendance,  the  lights,  flowers, 
and  music  of  entrance,  the  regulated  crush  of  carriages 
without,  ,even  a  few  of  the  glaring  and  defiant  faces 
staring  into  the  carriages  as  we  rolled  away  up  the  Rue 
Rivoli  or  through  the  Place  des  Pyramides. 

"  There !  Strauss'  wonderful  music  of  that  night  has 
already  ceased ;  the  flowers  of  the  Tuileries  have  faded, 
the  crowned  heads  have  gone  home ;  the  flirtations  then 
begun  have  borne  fruit  or  ended  ;  the  enamel  is  ofl"  my  lace, 
and  I  wear  a  robe  with  moi*e  than  four  inches  of  waist ! 
You  have  only  a  woman's  relation  of  the  afiair,  and  of  the 
aflfair  of  the  same  character  preceding ;  but  I  have  tried  to 
satisfy  a  little  of  the  natural  curiosity  of  my  comitry- 
women  who  did  not  chance  to  be  present;  and  neither  to 
you  nor  to  them  have  I  any  apology  to  offer  for  having 
possibly  failed  in  doing  my  very  best." 
9 


xvn. 

THE  WORLD'S  JEWELS  IN  THE  BIG  CASKET. 

The  most  sublime  thing  said  at  any  or  all  of  the  ceremo- 
nies connected  with  the  American  Exhibition  of  1853,  was 
the  utterance  of  Elihu  Burritt,  at  the  great  oratorical  re- 
opening, in  wliich  he  spoke  of  the  beautiful  building  as 
being  "  worthy  to  furnish  a  manger-cradle  to  the  divine 
infant.  Labor,"  and  all  the  triumphs  of  art  surrounding,  as 
"  gems  brought  from  far,  to  bind  upon  its  baby-brow." 
And  pei-haps  it  is  more  to  that  utterance  than  any  other, 
that  I  owe  the  feeling,  in  any  great  industrial  exhibition, 
that  I  am  standing  amid  something  sacred,  because  so 
much  of  the  best  of  the  human  heart  and  brain  and  hand 
has  entered  into  the  production  of  its  various  components 
— that  these  are,  indeed,  the  royal  gems  and  glories  of  a 
world. 

He  who  has  visited  the  Great  Exposition  of  1867,  and 
experienced  no  such  feeling  when  looking  down  one  of  the 
broad  circles  and  marking  how  labor  has  been  immortal- 
ized in  the  very  eflbrts  made  for  its  amelioration — has 
caught  but  a  faint  reflection  of  the  lesson  intended  to  be 
conveyed.  To  him  who  has  learned  the  lesson,  I  think  it 
is  quite  permissible  that  he  may  have  indulged  in  another, 
on  his  own  account — the  thought  how  much  is  constantly 
wasted,  of  what  might  supply  human  comfort  to  individ- 
uals by  the  million,  in  the  effort  to  supply  a  few  hundreds, 
or  at  least  a  few  thousands,  with  rare  and  unnecessary 


THE     WORLD'S    JEWELS.  195 

luxuries.  The  world  is  richer  for  every  one  of  the  whir- 
ring spindles  and  revolving  wheels  which  make  possible 
production  without  the  racking  of  so  many  nerves  and  the 
consumption  of  so  mucli  valuable  time  ;  it  is  the  richer, 
too,  for  most  of  the  solid  products  of  labor,  in  wood,  and 
iron,  and  brass,  and  leather,  and  stufis,  and  mixed  mate- 
rials, which  render  so  much  labor  unnecessary  because  so 
much  has  been  already  done ;  and  the  fund  of  wealth  is 
certainly  added  to,  the  mind  as  well  as  the  body  needing 
to  be  supplied,  by  the  efforts  of  art  which  enliven  the  brain 
and  make  the  material  M'orld  more  beautiful — whatever 
may  be  the  final  verdict  on  those  costly  nothings  destined 
to  deck  limb  and  add  unnatural  radiance  to  brow  and  hand. 
Of  most  of  the  articles  in  this  long  array,  that  may  be 
said  which  cannot  be  uttered  over  the  personality  of  quite 
all  the  men  on  earth,  without  a  far-seeing  deference  to  the 
creative  will:  "  It  is  better  that  they  exist";  and  the  pride 
of  being  part  ofaxoorld  capable  of  such  productions  has 
been  no  mean  ingredient  in  the  pleasure  of  gazing  down 
the  transverse  galleries  and  around  the  great  circles  of  the 
Exposition. 

Of  course  it  will  not  be  expected  that  in  this  connection 
any  list  can  be  made  of  even  the  most  notable  objects  on 
exhibition, — or  that  even  the  most  notable  of  the  most 
notable  can  be  indicated  by  a  mere  word.  The  intelligent 
man  who  had  spent  the  whole  summer  within  the  building 
and  park,  moving  about  briskly  and  making  notes  con- 
tinually, might  have  done  the  latter,  in  the  dry  mode  of  a 
catalogue,  but  very  little  more.  If  a  few  observations 
find  place,  here,  of  what  a  single  pair  of  eyes,  not  super- 
naturally  observant,  saw  and  noted  within  a  few  days — 
all  possibility  (and  let  us  hope  all  expectation)  will  have 
been  supplied.  Desultory  glimpses,  grouped  so  far  as  con- 
venient, but  having  only  one  settled  feature — that  they 
altogether  ignore  the  American  contributions,  they  being 


196  PARIS   IN   '67. 

entitled,  in  deference  to  American  readers,  to  the  justice 
of  a  separate  paper. 

Naturally  enough,  an  impractical  man,  who  scarcely 
knows  a  lever  from  a  connecting-rod,  turns  at  once  to  ma- 
chinery (because  it  is  one  of  his  great  ico?iders), — and  a 
"peace"  man  of  the  most  declared  character,  to  warlike 
weapons,- simply  because  he  is  not  in  the  habit  of  handling, 
them. 

Oddly  enough,  too,  the  two  nations  toward  whom 
France  is  well  known  to  have  been  looking  most  jealously 
— England  and  Prussia — have  chosen  to  thrust  into  her 
face,  in  the  present  instance,  nearly  all  the  "big-guns" 
and  improved  warlike  machinery  of  the  collection.  Prus- 
sia's improved  fire-arms,  the  perfection  of  neatness  and  ap- 
parently of  force,  have  attracted  much  attention  in  the 
main  building  ;  and  a  cannon  of  hers,  about  the  size  of  an 
ordinary  Croton-main,  has  pointed  toward  the  centre  of 
the  building  and  only  needed  loading  to  be  dangerous  to 
the  whole  affair.  Her  needle-guns  and  other  weapons 
have  correspondingly  dazzled  all  eyes  with  the  complete- 
ness of  their  finish  and  the  suggestions  of  the  use  which 
a  practically/  military  nation  could  make  of  them  on 
occasion.  England,  meanwhile  (principally  in  the  great 
annexe),  has  shown  Armstrongs,  Whitworths  and  other 
iron  monsters  in  profusion,  with  suggestive  splintered  tar- 
gets and  hints  of  what  has  been  accomplished  and  can  be  ac- 
complished again  in  case  of  necessity.  Belgium,  however, 
does  not  fall  off  from  the  old  prestige  of  Liege,  especially 
in  the  display  of  somewhat  heavy  but  eflective-looking 
fire-arms  and  army-cutlery ;  and  France,  as  if  daring  all 
that  other  countries  can  send  her,  in  peace  as  in  war,  fills 
up  every  atom  of  available  space  with  such  monstrosities 
in  founding,  and  such  an  infinite  variety  of  death-dealing 
implements,  facile  and  keen-looking  as  the  German  are 
clumsy,  (the  Chassepot  rifle  not  forgotten),  that  the  day  of 


THE     WORLD'S    JEWELS.  197 

"beating  spears  into  pruning-hooks"  does  not  seem  ap- 
preciably near.  The  artilleric  display  has  lain  principally 
between  the  three  nations  already  mentioned ;  though 
Turkey  has  matched  either,  if  not  over-matched  all,  in  the 
display  of  gims,  pistols,  sabres,  and  other  warlike  cutlery, 
somewhat  oriental-looking,  but  evidently  effective,  even  if 
not  many  of  them  have  the  glitter  of  Damascus. 

It  is  in  machinery  and  machines,  probably,  that  the 
most  wonderful  of  all  the  collections  has  been  accomplished. 
As  might  be  expected,  France,  having  the  advantage  of 
proximity,  leads  in  this  heavy  detail,  with  mighty  engines 
siipplying  motive-power  to  the  building,  with  locomotives 
and  railway-novelties  of  interest,  with  cotton  and  silk 
machines,  opening  the  whole  arcana  of  manufacture  to  the 
looker-on,  and  displaying  her  wealth  of  resources  in  a  most 
profitable  manner.  But  she  has  been  closely  followed  by 
England,  sending  over  many  of  the  best  heavy  works  of 
the  great  manufactories  at  London,  Birmingham,  Leeds, 
(fee,  and  fully  rivaling  France  in  machinery  devoted  to 
cloth  manufactures  and  the  preparation  of  materials.  In 
heavy  and  railway  machineries,  Belgium  excels  England, 
and  in  some  respects  even  France — her  locomotives  and 
traction-engines  being  ponderously-powerful-looking,  her 
railway-carriages  models  of  taste  and  beauty  (the  Euro- 
pean compartment  system  taken  as  the  standard),  and  no 
mean  rivalry  established  in  machines  specially  devoted 
to  the  preparation  of  materials  and  the  manufacture  of 
silks,  cottons  and  woolens.  Austria  has  some  excellent 
traction-engines,  and  promising  railway-novelties;  Bavaria, 
Baden  and  Switzerland,  all  make  creditable  railway  dis- 
plays; and  Austria,  Prussia  and  Sweden  principally  divide 
the  credit  (England  being  literally  "  nowhere,"  and  France 
scarcely  clutching  for  the  palm)  of  exhibiting  sewing-ma- 
chines that  look  like  more-or-less  successful  operation,  all 
modeled,  of  course,  on  thefts  from  well-known  American 


198  PARIS    IN    '67. 

patents,  and  all  founded  on  one  of  the  two  cardinal  Ameri- 
can principles.  In  one  regard,  ■which  may  be  entirely  a 
matter  of  local  advantage,  and  may  depend  not  a  little  on 
accorded  or  withheld  permission,  France  has  all  the 
while  been  at  an  immeasurable  distance  ahead  of  competi- 
tion— her  smaller  manufacturing  machinery  put  and  kept 
in  operation,  and  visitors  enjoying  the  privilege,  profitable 
enough  to  the  exhibitor,  as  well  as  instructive  to  the 
looker-on,  of  seeing  hats,  coats,  shoes,  combs,  artificial 
flowers,  buttons,  and  the  inevitable  chocolate,  manufac- 
tured from  the  raw  material ;  while  a  fully-appointed 
working  printing-press  has  supplied  another  of  the  peeps 
behind  the  curtain  of  labor,  not  quite  so  rare  in  industrial 
exhibitions.  In  some  of  the  buildings  in  the  Park,  by  the 
way,  the  orientals  have  been  allowed  to  infringe  the 
French  monopoly,  and  greasy  Egyptians  have  woven 
mats,  made  silver  finger-rings  from  wire,  and  otherwise 
instructed  eyes  and  depleted  pockets. 

In  jewelry  and  fine  ornamental  work  (to  make  a  leap 
which  suggests  the  packing  of  a  carpet-bag  by  first  putting 
in  the  boots,  and  then  the  watches)  France  leads,  again 
and  pronouncedly — one  whole  chamber  (well-policed,  "  you 
bet !"  as  "  Tommy"  would  say)  hung  in  green  (the  best 
color  for  jewel-relief),  and  devoted  to  such  a  display  of 
diamond,  pearl,  and  other  costly  bijouterie,  as  the  Count  of 
Monte  Cristo  might  have  gazed  upon  in  despair — such  as 
has  kept  the  "sea  of  tempestuous  petticoats"  (to  use  a 
favorite  expression  of  the  season)  dashing  dangerously 
around  it — -every  device  of  flower,  or  insect,  or  reptile, 
ever  shaped  in  gems,  here  so  modeled  and  incrusted,  of 
the  rarest  and  costliest,  with  the  serpents'  eyes  of  fire, 
rubies  and  emeralds,  the  drop  of  dew  on  an  enameled  rose- 
leaf  a  diamond,  and  the  sprays  of  delicate  flowers,  pearls 
and  opals  and  sapphires  diamond-blended,  that  it  has 
seemed  almost  impossible  to  avoid  pausing  to  speculate 


TEE     WORLD'S    JEWELS.  199 

how  much  the  material  ixniverse  would  have  cost  in  francs, 
dollars,  or  pounds-sterling,  had  the  Great  Architect  formed 
his  world  of  insect  life  and  floral  beauty  in  the  same  lavish 
manner  !  France  certainly  exhausts  the  graceful  in  shape, 
and  the  skilful  in  manipulation,  as  she  "  tops  the  infinite 
of"  cost;  though  England  presses  her  hard,  in  some  of 
the  collections  of  the  great  London  jewelers,  in  one  of 
which  (I  forget  the  name,  though  I  think  it  was  Jewish) 
I  saw  diamond  sprays  of  such  luxurionsness  that  they 
seemed  to  radiate  the  atmosphere  of  Hyde  Park  in  the 
season,  or  the  Queen's  Drawing  Room ;  while  in  one  jewel 
a  single  yellow  diamond, of  immense  size,  was  surrounded 
by  others,  so  set  as  to  quiver  and  shimmer  continually,  with 
a  most  dazzling  effect ;  and  some  of  the  English  peeresses 
(the  Countess  Dudley  among  others)  did  what  no 
French  lady  had  thought  of  doing,  and  sent  over  her 
ancestral  diamonds  in  a  body,  to  keep  up  the  national 
reputation  !  As  to  the  other  continental  nations — Berlin 
and  Vienna  have  only  been  behind  London  and  Pai'is  in 
the  extent  of  their  jewelry  contributions  ;  though  the  truth 
must  be  told  that  the  Prussians  and  Austrians  both  lack 
the  art  of  setting  to  perfection,  however  rare  the  gems  at 
their  disposal,  and  that  the  Austrians,  at  least,  seem  more 
at  home  in  the  extensive  collection  of  "  Brummagem,"  or 
mock  jewels,  which  have  blinded  uninstructed  eyes  nearly 
as  much  as  the  costly  realities.  Italy,  meanwhile,  has  not 
forgotten  Benvenuto  Cellini,  or  the  Etruscans,  as  evidenced 
by  some  of  her  works  in  gold,  silver,  and  precious  stones. 
Russia  has  astonished  those  who  only  thought  of  her  as  a 
land  of  snows,  furs,  and  the  knout,  by  showing  some  exquisite 
productions  in  the  precious  metals,  and  some  novelties  in 
gem-incrusted  furniture,  from  her  own  semi-precious  stones, 
defying  competition  in  their  way ;  and  sleepy  old  Holland, 
seldom  too  much  admired  of  the  fair  sex,  has  carried  them 
all  captive  by  establishing  a  diamond-cutting  laboratory  in 


200  PARIS    IX   '6  7. 

an  annexe,  showing  the  whole  process  of  shaping  the  gem 
on  wheels  through  the  friction  of  its  own  powder,  and 
making  more  feminine  mouths  water,  and  more  masculine 
pockets  empty  in  anticipation,  than  almost  any  of  the  more 
pretentious  nations. 

From  jewels  to  statuary,  bronzes  and  carvings,  is  not 
quite  so  extended  a  leap.  In  marble  statuary,  as  might 
have  been  expected,  Italy  has  stood  unrivaled  and  unap- 
proachable, the  different  sections  of  the  Italian  depart- 
ment having  been  literally  heart-aching  (to  the  poor  and 
covetous),  with  the  number  and  excellence  of  products  of 
the  chisel.  This  paper  has  no  mission  to  particularize, 
else  might  it  be  entirely  filled  with  the  naming  of  some  of 
my  own  particular  heart-aches  that  have  not  even  the 
distant  prospect  of  a  cure.  France  has  supplied  many  fine 
rival  works  in  marble,  and  shamed  competition  by  the 
wealth  of  her  display  of  photo-sculpture  (moulding  in  clay 
by  a  new  process,  about  which  Americans  will  be  better 
instructed  by  and  by),  and  she  has  furnished  many  noble 
specimens  of  the  colossal  in  art,  adorning  the  grounds 
and  entrances,  closely  followed,  and  in  some  instances, 
excelled,  by  Belgium,  to  which  the  collection  has  owed 
some  of  the  most  striking  of  its  ultra-colosf^al  figures. 
Much  of  the  Russian  cutting  in  poplar-wood  (for  house 
decoration)  can  scarcely  be  named  as  carving,  any  more 
than  as  sculpture,  though  it  has  a  certain  rude  and  odd 
charm,  undeniable  when  its  use  is  considered ;  and  that 
the  great  Northern  Bear  can  work  in  other  matei-ials  is 
evident  in  one  chimney-piece  of  contrasted  native  marbles, 
excelling  all  others  in  its  line  and  commanding  universal 
admiration.  Switzerland  and  Central  Germany,  possessors 
at  once  of  the  woods  especially  appropriate  for  carving, 
and  of  the  contented,  plodding,  low-paid  people  requisite 
for  the  work — excel  the  world  in  their  carvings  in  walnut 
and  oak,  from  the  colossal  to  the  liliputian — from  great 


THE     WORLD'S    JEWELS.  201 

bears  and  stalwart  -warriorp,  to  wondrous  match-boxes  and 
distracting  paper-folders — that  branch  of  art  rapidly  rising, 
now,  to  recognition  among  the  most  creditable,  rare  and 
costly.  In  bronzes  the  great  German  kingdoms  display 
very  excellent  specimens ;  but  there  is  not  even  a  com- 
parison to  be  made  between  them,  or  the  works  in  the 
same  material  from  any  other  country,  and  the  matchless 
beauties  and  delicacies  of  the  French  department,  in  which 
richness  of  material  answers  to  chastity  of  design,  and 
tlie  art  of  working  in  bronze,  at  its  present  height  of  per- 
fection, seems  literally  to  have  reached  its  apotheosis. 
Pausing  in  this  department  and  foiling  in  love,  continually, 
with  some  new  object  of  grace  and  beauty — the  most 
graceful  thing  in  nature,  the  form  of  woman,  continually 
renewed  in  the  richest  of  material — it  has  been  easier,  I 
think,  than  ever  before,  to  understand  how  much  the  divine 
ordinance  debarred,  when  it  commanded  :  "  Thou  shalt 
not  worship  any  graven  image." 

Swiss  Geneva  and  Locle,  English  Birmingham  and 
Liverpool,  German  Nuremberg,  Prussian  Berlin,  and  Aus- 
trian Vienna  and  Prague,  all  run  riot,  of  course,  in  a  mad 
competition  of  watches,  the  costliest  to  the  cheapest,  dia- 
mond-studded and  enamele<l,  to  the  plainest  silver — and 
the  sizes  ranging  from  a  corn-kernel  to  a  tea-plate,  but 
Switzerland  decidedly  wearing  the  honors  ;  while  Switzer- 
land and  Germany  combine  to  present  so  many  clocks, 
equally  elegant  and  cheap,  in  carved  woods,  and  the  com- 
moner metals,  as  to  join  hands  with  the  French  costly 
beauties  in  bronze,  \drtually  annihilate  the  once-popular 
Yankee  structure  at  a  touch,  and  squeeze  the  traditional 
Yankee  clock-maker  out  of  existence. 

There  would  seem  to  have  been  a  fair  understanding  of 

the  inherent  indolence  of  mankind,  among  contributors  to 

the  Exposition,  for  no   small  expenditure  of  wealth  and 

talent  has  been  employed  upon  the  costliest  means  of  coa- 

9* 


202  PARIS    IN-   '67. 

veyance — the  private  carriage.  In  this  department,  again, 
France  has  asserted  her  pre-eminence,  not  strangely,  the 
cost  of  transporting  such  bulky  articles  being  considered ; 
but  with  a  claim  to  much  credit  for  the  unimpeachable 
taste  in  shape  characterizing  most  of  the  carriages,  and  for 
the  soberness  of  rich  upholstery.  England  has  followed, 
with  vehicles  highly  creditable,  but  somewhat  too  pon- 
derous for  the  American  eye ;  and  Belgium,  Prussia  and 
Austria  have  all  played  well  their  part  in  this  regard  ; 
while  from  far-away  Russia  have  come  so  many  and  such 
odd  conveyances  that  the  modes  of  transit  of  the  Czar  and 
his  subjects  remain  no  longer  a  mystery.  Perhaps  in  no 
detail  of  the  whole  exhibition  has  the  progress  of  human 
luxury  been  more  apparent  than  in  the  general  tendency 
to  lay  additional  stress  upon  the  indolent  substitute  for 
healthier  equestrianism. 

Close  to  the  carriage  naturally  come  the  harness  and 
the  world-used  material  of  which  it  is  made — leather.  Of 
harness,  England,  France,  Belgium,  Prussia,  Austria, 
Russia  and  Holland,  have  all  supplied  most  creditable  col- 
lections, costly  luxury  being  again  apparent  in  the  increas- 
ing use  of  plate  and  patent-leather ;  and  a  gratifying 
progress  evident,  with  all  these  nations,  in  the  eschewing 
of  antique  weight  and  clumsiness,  and  the  adoption  of 
recent  inventions  for  giving  additional  freedom  to  the 
horse.  In  saddlery,  Spain  may  be  said  to  lead  the  van,  in 
excellence  nearly  as  much  as  in  show  ;  while  Turkey  sup- 
plies much  that  is  orientally  odd  though  valuable,  and 
France,  England  and  all  the  leading  continental  nations 
display  taste  and  progress  in  this  too-much-neglected 
branch  of  manufacture.  As  might  be  supposed,  the  three 
great  rivals,  Russia,  Spain  and  Turkey,  dwaif  all  oppo- 
sition in  the  fineness  and  iuBnite  variety  of  the  far-famed 
"  Russia-leather,"  fragrant  as  the  cedar  and  sandal-wood 
used  in  iis  preparation — the    "  Spanish-leather,"    known 


THE     WORLD'S    JEWELS.  203 

■wherever  the  name  of  Cordova  has  reached — and  the 
"  Turkish  morocco,"  as  inseparably  connected  with  the 
chaussure  of  beauty.  France,  Belgium,  and  the  German 
States,  have  made  splendid  shows  in  patent-leather,  and 
England  supplies  some  of  the  heavier  fabrics  in  rare  per- 
fection. And  while  speaking  of  leather  and  its  products, 
it  may  be  well  to  say,  here,  that  though  the  French  and 
German  collections  of  shoes  are  almost  endless,  and  run- 
ning through  every  variety  of  cost  and  excellence,  yet 
from  some  of  the  London  manufacturers  there  have  been 
exhibited,  made  exclusively  (they  say)  by  native  workmen, 
specimens  of  boot  and  shoe  manufacture  very  materially 
excelling,  both  in  shape  and  working  detail,  the  finest  of 
Paris,  BerHn,  or  Vienna.  Johnny  Crapaud  is  in  this 
instance  fairly  beaten  on  his  own  ground,  and  in  a  branch 
of  manufacture  in  which  he  has  before  had  but  one  rival — 
the  Austrian. 

A  new  language,  or  at  least  a  fresh  supply  of  adjectives, 
■would  be  needed  to  speak  of  the  infinite  variety  and  splen- 
dor of  the  cloths,  silks,  velvets,  worsted  stuffs,  and  other 
dress  material  for  the  two  sexes,  with  which  the  cases  of 
all  the  leading  nations  have  been  studded.  Alternately  it 
has  seemed  to  me,  in  woolen  fabrics,  that  the  French,  the 
Enghsh  and  the  German  looms  had  the  predominance ; 
but  one  fact  was  patent  at  last — that  in  the  soft  and  luxu- 
rious folds  of  the  finer  fabrics  of  either,  judgment  could 
be  nearly  as  effectually  smothered  as  physical  life.  To 
some  of  those  soft,  fleecy,  white  and  light-colored  cloths, 
destined  to  wrap  the  dainty  forms  of  the  fairer  sex,  I 
think  that  I  could  easily  have  paid  adoration  and  com- 
menced a  new  worship ;  while  I  could  certainly  have  done 
so  to  the  seas  of  silks  and  velvets  of  Lyons,  Spitalfields  and 
Verona.  I  might  have  found  something  more  enduring, 
at  the  same  time,  in  the  soberer  and  heavier  German 
fabrics — Prussia,    Austiia,    Belgium     and     the    German 


204  PARIS   IN   '67. 

States  being  all  most  creditably  represented ;  and  had  I 
been  disposed  to  be  showily  oriental,  in  what  tawdry  mag- 
nificence of  cloth-of-gold  and-silver,  and  fine  woolens 
showing  the  dyes  once  employed  in  the  looms  of  Tyre, 
could  I  not  have  wrapped  myself  from  the  collections  of 
Spain  (Moorish),  Turkey,  Tunis  and  Morocco?  And  had 
I  had  daintier  shoulders  than  my  own  to  ornament,  in  what 
seas  of  shawls  might  I  not  have  drowned  myself  and  the 
"  beloved  object,"  many  of  the  French,  and  some  of  the 
English  and  German,  approaching  very  closely  to  the 
boasted  glories  of  the  priceless  Indian  and  Persian  fabrics 
80  proudly  challenging  competition  ?  And  had  I  desired 
laces — have  not  the  proudest  triumphs  of  the  Flemings, 
fortunes  in  a  cap-full,  been  setting  female  hearts  aching  ? 
And  have  not  the  French  artists  followed  closely,  and 
sometimes  matched  their  exemplars  ?  And  have  there  not 
been  lace  productions  from  England  and  Ireland,  so  rich 
and  costly  that,  in  the  event  of  a  "  non-intercourse  "  with 
all  the  continent,  Her  Grace  the  Duchess  would  not  be 
seriously  puzzled  for  a  cobweb  to  envelop  her  plump 
shoulders  ? 

But  this  resume  is  growing,  after  all,  to  something  like 
a  catalogue  of  the  whole  exhibition :  it  must  have  an  end 
at  once,  difficult  as  it  may  be  to  break  away  from  gloiies 
in  manufacture  more  wonderful  even  to  this  age  than  were 
the  oriental  marvels  of  Prester  John  to  his.  How  grate- 
ful would  be  the  task,  to  note  the  figures  in  the  peculiar 
dresses  of  their  localities,  supplied  by  France,  by  Russia, 
by  Sweden  and  Norway;  to  smack  imaginary  lips  over 
the  wines  of  uncounted  names  and  varieties,  in  which 
France  has  taken  the  lead  (joined  with  Algeria),  with 
Spain,  Portugal  and  Italy  following,  and  the  German 
States  far  in  arrear ;  to  delve  into  the  wonderful  wealth 
of  mineral  productions  of  Prussia,  Spain,  Austria,,  France, 
Italy,  Turkey  and  England;  to  feel  doubly  assured  that 


THE     WORLD'S    JEWELS.  205 

the  -n'orld  hns  no  near  starvation  before  it,  in  the  midst  of 
the  crowded  cereals  of  France  (again  with  Algeria),  Hol- 
land, Belgium,  Prussia,  Austria,  Spain,  Portugal,  Greece, 
Sweden,  Russia,  Italy,  Turkey,  Brazil,  England  and  the 
British  possessions  in  the  AVesi  and  the  East ;  to  make 
comparison  between  the  farm- implements  of  all  the  leading 
nations  named  (many  of  them  down  at  the  He  de  Billan- 
court,  in  the  middle  of  the  Seine,  and  hopelessly  out  of 
ordinary  view) ;  to  riot  (not  rudely)  among  the  wilderness 
of  porcelain,  from  Sevres  in  France  to  Prague  in  Bohemia 
and  TJttoxeter  in  England  and  Cracow  in  Poland  ;  to  build 
ships  from  those  models  of  the  Austrians,  the  French  and 
the  Norwegians;  to  hear  all  the  horns  blow,  all  the  fiddles 
twang  and  all  the  eight-hundred  organs  and  pianos  bang 
and  moan ;  to  bathe  in  the  atmosphere  of  French  flowers 
and  imitations — to  prolong,  so  far  as  possible,  the  glamour 
of  a  collection  of  art,  industry,  usefulness,  extravagance 
and  instruction,  such  as  the  world  has  never  before  known 
and  may  roll  through  many  cycles  before  it  du^^licates  the 
opportunity. 

But  here  an  end,  except  as  to  one  detail  purposely 
avoided  up  to  this  moment. —  Pictures.  Had  the  Exposi- 
tion of  '07  performed  no  other  office  for  the  world  than 
educating  taste  in  this  single  regard,  it  would  still  have 
deserved  well  of  humanity.  For  within  that  inner  circle 
of  the  great  building,  and  in  some  of  the  annexes  specially 
devoted  to  the  same  purpose,  have  been  gathered  better 
evidences  of  the  world's  progress  in  the  painter's  art, 
more  beauties  and  fewer  deformities,  than  ever  before 
covered  the  same  stupendous  extent  of  wall-surface.  The 
Vatican,  the  Louvre,  Versailles,  the  galleries  of  Florence 
and  Dresden  and  London  may  be  each  wonderful  in  their 
way ;  but  they  do  not  inclose  the  race  in  a  circle,  as  this 
gathering  has  done,  and  that  feature  of  "seeing  eye  to 
eye  "  has  been  the  great  necessity. 


206  PA  BIS   IN    '6  7. 

"Wonderful  walks,  to  even ,  the  moderately-instructed  in 
art,  have  been  those  (leg- wearying  enough  as  to  distance) 
through  the  almost  endless  circle  still  clasped  closest 
within  the  building  as  if  most  valuable  of  all.  It  has  been 
no  ordinary  privilege  to^look  up  in  succession  to  walls 
bearing  pieces  presented  as  worthy  the  stake  of  reputation, 
by  such  artists  as  French  Rosa  Bonheur  ("  Scottish  Raz- 
zia," "  Stags,"  &c.) ;  Meissonier  ("  Expectation,"  "  The 
Emperor  at  Solferino,"  "  Campaign  of  France,"  "  Cavaliers 
Drinking,"  &c.);  Winterbalter  (originals  of  the  famous 
"Napoleon  III"  and  "Eugenie");  Cabanel  ("Birth  of 
Venus,"  "Nymph  and  Fawn,"  &c.) ;  Gerome  ("The 
Gladiators,"  "  Duel  after  the  Masquerade,"  "  Phryne  be- 
fore the  Tribunal,"  "  Death  of  Caesar,"  &c.)  ;  Rousseau 
("Pass  of  Apremont,"  "Autumn,"  "Evening  aftey  the 
Rain,"  &c.) ;  Bougereau;  Corot  ("  Witches  in  Macbeth," 
"  Ruins  of  Pierrefonds,"  &c.) ;  Lambinet  ("  Banks  of  the 
Ivette  ") ;  D'Aubigny  ("  Valley  "  and  "Village  of  Opteroz," 
"  Banks  of  the  Oise,"  &c.) ;  Huet  ("  Equinoctial  Tide  at 
Honfleur,"  "  Groves  of  Normandy,"  "  Wood  of  La  Haye," 
&c.);  Merle;  Courbet;  Comte-Calix  ("The  Old  Friend"); 
Tvon  ("Taking  of  the  Malakoff"— Versailles  Gallery,  and 
"  Convoy  of  Wounded  ") ;  Plassan  ;  and  August  Bonheur 
("Souvenirs"  of  "the  Pyrenees"  and  "Auvergne") ;  by 
German  Knaus  ("Shoemaker's  "Wife,"  "Peasant  Girl," 
"  Boy  Shoemakers,"  &c.) ;  Baron  Leys  ("  Lancelot  von 
Ursel,"  "Archduke  Charles,"  "Publication  of  Edict  in 
Antwerp,"  "  Conference  in  the  Reformation,"  &c. — princi- 
pally from  his  great  frescoes  .at  Antwerp) ;  Andreas  and 
Oswald  Achenbach  ("Amsterdam"  and  "Port  of  Ostend  " 
and  "  Rocca  de  Papa ") ;  Kaulbacb  (colossal  picture  of 
the  "  Reformation,"  and  Portraits) ;  Piloty  ("  Death  of 
Caesar,"  "Before  Weissenberg,"  "Godfrey  de  Bouillon," 
&c.) ;  Sigismund  L'Allemand ;  Matejiko  ("  Diet  of  War- 
saw ")  J    Bauquiet ;    Tschaggeny ;    Stevens    and   Willems 


TEE    WORLD'S   JEWELS.  207 

("  Visit  of  Marie  de  Medicis  to  Rubens,"  "  The  Armourer," 
"  The  Adieux,"  &c.)  :  by  Italian  Induno  ("  Letter  from  the 
Camp") ;  Hayez  ("  Massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew") ;  Gastaldi 
("  Defense  of  Tortona  ") ;  the  Gambas  ("  Victor  Amadeus 
succoring  Carmagnola,"  and  "  Beach  at  Cheveningen")  :  by 
Dutch  Von  Schendel  ("Christmas  Night,"  "Holy  Fam- 
ily," "Dutch  Market  at  Night,"  "Angel  Gabriel  and 
Virgin,"  &c.)  ;  Meyer  ("  Coast  of  France,"  "  Coast  of 
England,"  &c.)  ;  and  Haas  ("  Plains  in  Holland,"  "  Before 
the  Storm,"  &c.) :  by  Spanish  Alvarez  ("  Indulgences") ; 
Gisbert  {"  Landing  of  the  Pilgrims  " — American,  "  Meet- 
ing of  Francis  L  and  Eleanor  of  Austria,"  Portraits,  &c.) ; 
and  Ruiperez  [genre  pieces) :  by  Swedish  Hoeckert  ("  Fire 
in  the  Palace  of  Stockholm ")  ;  and  Jernberg  ("  Bear  at 
the  Fair,"  "  Westphalian  Costumes,"  &c.)  :  by  Bussian 
Bogoliouboff  ("  Naval  Combat,"  "  Bombardment  of  Petrg- 
paulowsky,"  &c.) ;  Clodt  (Landscapes) ;  and  Peroff  ("  Vil- 
lage Funeral"  and  "First  Uniform"):  and  by  English 
Faed  ("  His  Only  Pair  ") ;  Frith  ("  Claude  Duval  "—not 
equal  to  either  his  "  Derby  Day  "  or  "  Railway  Station") ; 
Landseer  ("  Shrew  Tamed  ")  ;  Calderon  ("  Her  Most  No- 
ble, High  and  Puissant  Grace")  ;  Hunt  ("Afterglow  in 
Egypt")  Ansdell  ("Treading  out  the  Corn");  Millais 
("  Eve  of  St.  Agnes,"  and  "  Romans  Leaving  Britain  ")  ; 
Davis  ("  Spring-Time  in  the  Pas  de  Calais ")  ;  O'Neill 
("  Eastward  Ho  !  ") ;  and  Sant  ("  The  First  Sense  ot  Sor- 
row"). 

It  has  been  no  slight  privilege,  I  repeat,  to  look  up  to 
walls  covered  with  these  and  other  works  by  such  painters 
as  those  who  have  been  thus  hurriedly  selected  from  the 
great  artistic  crowd — most  of  them  living,  active,  working 
artists,  not  yet  past  their  usefulness  or  entirely  sacrificed 
on  the  altar  of  "  dead  names."  Though  the  bulk  of  a 
feast  does  not  always  add  to  the  enjoyment  of  it,  it  may 
be  well  to  know,  additionally,  that  of  paintings  and  draw- 


208  PARIS    IN   '67. 

ings  the  French  array  numbers  625  ;  that  of  Holland  169  ; 
that  of  Belgium  180  ;  that  of  Prussia  118  ;  that  of  Bavaria 
254  ;  that  of  Austria  140  ;  that  of  Switzerland  167  ;  that 
of  Spain  42  ;  that  of  Sweden  and  Norway  104;  that  of 
Russia  74  ;  that  of  Italy  93  ;  that  of  Egypt  26  ;  that  of  the 
United  States  (hereafter  to  be  noticed)  80  ;  and  that  of 
Great  Britain  213  ;  besides  those  of  minor  states  and 
the  Orient — the  whole  number  of  pictures,  exclusive  of 
working-drawings,  plans  and  photography,  reaching  the 
overwhelming  figure  of  nearly  twenty-five  hundred — prob- 
ably three-fourths  in  oil,  and  the  representation  of  contem- 
porary art  equally  extensive  and  satisfactory,  in  spite  of  all 
regretted  absences  and  deficiencies. 

With  this  paper,  general  notice  of  the  Great  Exposition 
finds  its  conclusion — a  conclusion,  it  is  to  be  feared,  more 
•egretted  by  the  writer  than  his  readers.  Not  even  the 
brilliant  Distribution  des  Iiecompe?ises,  at  the  Palais  d'ln- 
dustrie  on  the  first  of  July,  can  find  place  in  the  hastiest 
description,  owing  to  a  default  for  which  the  present  writer 
is  certainly  not  responsible.  "Tommy"  was  to  furnish 
me  an  account  of  that  event,  too  :  I  do  not  know  that  I  can 
inflict  a  severer  punishment  on  the  young  man,  if  he  has 
any  feeling  whatever,  than  by  publishing  to  the  eyes  of  the 
thousands  who  know  or  suspect  his  identity,  precisely 
what  he  forwarded,  under  date  2d  July,  in  the  place  of  the 
expected  "  account."  Here  follows  the  curiosity,  ver- 
batim et  literatitn : — 

"  How  are  you,  Gov.!  "Wasn't  I  to  send  you  a  thingamy 
about  Nappy  and  the  other  nobs  distributing  the  prizes  at 
the  Palace  of  Industry  where  nobody  never  works,  oh  no, 
never  no  more  ?  Don't  answer,  for  I  know  that  I  was, 
now  that  I  think  of  it.  Sorry,  old  boy,  but  can't  do  it,  you 
know — nohow !  Distribution  took  place  yesterday,  but 
Count  Bob  and  I  had  a  little  affaire  last  night — finished 
up   (no,  not  finished  up,  but  began  to  finish  up)   at  the 


TEE     WORLD'S    JEWELS.  209 

Moulin  Rouge  ;  and  consequence  is — things  are  thick  this 
morning,  about  'this  distracted  globe ' — you  bet !  Haven't 
the  slightest  idea  what  happened,  except  that  the  house 
was  jammed  fuller  of  people  than  it  always  is  of  pictures 
and  other  fineries — that  everybody  was  there  (except  you 
and — I  won't  mention  the  other  name,  for  it  is  'calico') — 
that  old  Nappy  handed  around  crosses  and  medals  (not 
himself,  though — bless  your  innocence,  no  !)  until  I  thonght 
that  they  weie  business-cards  and  he  was  just  going  to  set 
up  in  haberdashery — that  all  the  people  who  got  crosses 
and  medals,  and  all  their  women,  looked  jolly,  and  all  the 
others  glummer  than  Butter  Hill  in  a  thunder-storm — that 
there  was  any  quantity  of  shoAV,  fuss-and-feathers,  brass 
band  and  noise.  /  didn't  get  any  Cross  of  the  Legion, 
neither  did  you,  though  I  don't  know  why.  No  use  of 
being  cross  about  it,  though ;  so  let's  don't !  As  for 
medals — you  know  that  I  never  meddle  about  anything, 
so  how  could  I  have  one  of  them  ?  High  old  times, 
though — thing  of  enlarged  dimensions,  altogether — hope 
that  His  Imperial  Majesty  felt  better  when  he  had  got  all 
those  things  off  his  mind  and  out  of  his  pockets  !  There 
— that  is  all  that  you  are  likely  to  get,  and  I  hope  you  like 
it.  Don't  believe  that  it  is  much  of  a  '  description,'  but 
who  cares  for  description  ?  Hang  descriptions  !  '  Hang  ' 
was  not  the  word  that  I  wrote  first,  but  you  will  see  that 
I  have  crossed  out  the  other,  because  the  respectability  of 
this  establishment  must  be  preserved !  Vive  la  bagatelle  ! 
— and  the  old  gentleman  with  the  hoofs,  horns  and  tail 
catch  the  hindmost !  If  you  want  anything  more  about 
the  Distribution — here,  I  throw  you  in  one  of  Count  Bob's 
extra  cards  of  admission,  that  I  hooked  out  of  his  pocket 
last  night :  publish  that .-'" 

A  copy  of  the   card  so  impudently  forAvarded,  is  sub- 
joined, as  one  more  of  those  "  bricks  from  the  Tower  of 


210  PARIS   IK   '67. 

Babel,"  calculated  to  show  the  size  and  style  of  the  struc- 
ture : — 


Emperor's  Eagle, 
quartered  on  eimine ; 
supported    by  crossed 
scepters  and  crowned. 


•  Exposition  ■  Universelle-  dv  1867  •  2  •  Pa/ris 


Commission  •  Impcriale  ■ 


Ctiriraonie 
de  la 


DiSTRiBunoif  •  des  •  Recompenses 
Au  Palais  de  rindustrie. 

Mons.  le  Comte  Robert  de 

Stalle  No.  286,  Tribune  H.  R. 
Entree  par  le  Grand  Portail,  Porte  III. 

En  uniforme  ou  en  frac  et  cravate  blanche. 
Cette  carte  est  personneUe,  elk  doit  (tn-e  conservee  pour 

justifier  da  droit  3  la  place  occupee. 
Les  Fortes  seront  ouvertes  a  midi  et  rigoureusement 
fermees  a  1  heure  \. 


It  only  remains  to  fulfill  a  national  duty,  in  alluding 
briefly  to  the  articles  winning  or  failing  of  honor  in  the 
United  States  department — and  then  to  pass  to  the  promised 
"  side-shows  of  Paris,"  and  to  a  few  of  the  "  excursions  " 
connected  with  the  Exposition  summer. 


xvm, 

'  AMERICA'S  SHARE  IN  THE  DIVIDED  HONORS 


The  fact  that  America  (the  United  States  absolutely 
claiming  and  filling  the  name)  has  won  more  solid  honors 
per  cent,  in  the  Great  Exposition,  than  any  other  comitry 
on  the  globe — this  fact  is  almost  too  well  known  to  need 
assertion.  What  it  might  have  won,  meanwhile,  had  not 
certain  adverse  influences  prevented  any  adequate  display 
of  the  resources  of  a  country  covering  so  wide  an  extent 
of  both  latitude  and  longitude,  and  notoriously  taking  part 
in  nearly  every  species  of  labor,  erection  and  manufecture 
known  to  the  civilized  world — this  would  be  an  idle  spec- 
ulation, even  if  an  interesting  one. 

Several  causes  combined  to  make  the  American  display 
limited  in  extent,  late  in  arrival,  and  second-rate  in  oppor- 
tunity. The  first  of  these  was  to  be  found  in  the  tardi- 
ness and  niggardliness  of  Congress,  which  omitted  to  con- 
sider the  question  of  appropriation  for  goods-transit  to 
and  personal  attendance  at  the  Exposition,  when  it  should 
have  been  considered,  haggled  over  names  and  details  in 
Buch  a  manner  as  to  deprive  the  application  of  all  dignity 
and  create  the  impression  that  some  enormous  favor  was 
to  be  accorded  instead  of  a  great  advertising  opportunity 
embraced — and  finally,  at  the  thirteenth  hour  (not  having 
yet  fully  "reconstructed"  the  divided  nation),  devoted  to 
this  great  service  a  sum  which  would  have  been  disgrace- 
fully mean  for  an  exploring  expedition  to  the  head-waters 


212  PARIS    IN    '67. 

of  Seconnet  River,  besides  so  managing  as  to  secure  the 
appointment  to  the  (nominally)  paid  Coinmissionerships, 
of  men  of  wealth  to  Avhom  the  bagatelle  was  no  object, 
leaving  in  the  unpaid  ones  younger,  more  active  and  gen- 
erally more  impecunious  men,  to  whom  even  the  trifle 
would  have  been  somewhat  welcome  in  dividing  the  bur' 
then. 

Such  was,  too  notoriously,  the  action  of  a  national  body 
which  used  at  least  to  make  some  pretence  of  encouraging 
national  industry,  and  which  can  yet  do  so  when  some  sec- 
tional interest  is  to  be  fostered  by  a  tarifi"  little  else  than 
prohibitory.  The  President,  agreeing  with  the  represent- 
ative bodies  in  nothing  else,  agreed  with  it  in  shilly-shal- 
lying, delays,  and  failing  to  rise  to  the  level  of  the  occasion, 
and  ended  by  vigorously  selecting  the  wrong  persons  for 
most  of  the  positions,  and  only  hitting  upon  the  tit  and 
proper  appointees  (as  he  did  in  some  well-known  instances) 
through  unfortunate  accident. 

The  country,  too,  was  singularly  ill-prepared,  at  the 
decisive  moment,  for  considering  the  great  question  of 
advertising  itself  abroad,  or  for  acting  upon  that  consid- 
eration when  it  had  been  held.  Just  emerging  from  the 
most  terrible  Avar  in  all  history,  one-third  of  its  territory 
lay  more  or  less  in  ruin  and  desolation,  while  unpaid 
accounts  crippled  the  ability  of  thousands  usually  abund- 
ant in  means  and  liberal  in  policy ;  at  the  same  moment 
that  the  before-named  and  other  incidental  causes  pre- 
vented there  being  on  hand  many  of  those  tastefully- 
prepared  articles  peculiarly  appropriate  for  sending  abroad, 
or  the  rapid  manufacture  of  them  when  the  necessity  was 
recognized.  Add  to  all  this,  the  gold  premium  and  rate 
of  exchange  bringing  every  dollar  spent  by  America  or 
Americans  in  Europe,  to  nearly  one-and-a-half  dollars  in 
cost  at  home — the  distance  and  cost  of  transportation, 
under  the  most  favorable  circumstances — the  still-lingering 


AMERICA'S    SHARE.  213 

ill-feeling  against  the  exhibitionary  nation,  well  understood 
to  have  been  among  the  most  anxious  for  our  dismember 
ment — the  fears  for  the  peace  of  Europe,  rendering  a  shade 
doubtful  the  early  return  of  what  might  be  sent  over  at 
so  much  cost  and  trouble, — and  some  intelligent  idea  may 
be  formed  of  the  obstacles  lying  in  the  way  of  a  repre- 
sentation of  American  products  at  Paris,  worthy  of  the 
land  and  people. 

That  signal  failure  has  not  been  the  result,  may  be  set 
down  principally  to  the  credit  of  most  American  inven- 
tions being  of  that  practical  order  which  compels  recog- 
nition under  every  disadvantage — to  the  energy  of  a  few 
moved  by  public  spirit,  and  a  few  more  by  that  rational 
commercial  spirit  which  recognizes  great  opportunities — 
and  to  a  combination  of  the  sacred  and  profane  adages  : 
«  The  last  shall  be  first,"  and  "  A  fool  for  luck  !  "  America 
has  contributed  enough  to  the  great  gathering,  to  make 
Americans  proud  of  her,  and  yet  only  enough  to  induce 
continual  regrets,  such  as  one  feels  at  an  assembly  where 
Jane,  Susan  and  Maria  are  splendidly  companionable,  but 
the  thought  loill  come  up :  "  Oh,  if  Matilda  were  only 
here !"  To  be  pleased,  and  say  :  "  What  has  America  not 
done!"  has  only  sharpened  the  thought:  "What  might 
America  not  have  done  !" — to  see  what  American  invent- 
ors and  manufacturers  have  exhibited,  has  been  followed 
by  continual  reminders  of  absence,  and  the  half-muttered 

exclamation  :    "  Why  the  deuce  did  not  ,  and , 

and ,  who  might  each  have  made  such  displays  in  their 

line,  and  who  had  time  enough  and  wealth  enough  to 
devote  to  aiding  the  national  reputation  and  advertising 
themselves,  come  here  and  double  or  trijjle  all  this,  like 
good  fellows !"  Something  more  of  this  in  due  time, 
when  the  articles  actually  on  exhibition  shall  have  been 
noticed  and  "honors  counted." 

It  may  be  well  to  record,  as  a  matter  of  historical  recol- 


214  PARIS    IN    '67. 

lection,  the  names  of  the  originally-appointed  United 
States  Commissioners  (paid  and  unpaid),  the  General 
Agent,  the  State  Commissioners  (rather  fifth-wheel-to-a- 
coach-y,  as  they  were  most  of  them  equally  unnecessary 
and  unrecognized),  and  a  few  prominent  citizens,  most  of 
them  not  abroad  at  all,  who  acted  on  the  Advisory  Com- 
mittees with  reference  to  admissions  of  articles. 

Commissioner   General — N.  M.  Beckwith,  Paris. 

General  American  Agent. — J.  C.  Derby,  United  States 
Dispatch  Agent,  New  York. 

Ten  Paid  Commissioners. — Samuel  B.  Ruggles,  New 
York ;  James  H.  Bowen,  Chicago,  Illinois  ;  H.  F.  Q. 
D'Aligny,  Houghton,  Michigan ;  William  Slade,  Ohio ; 
John  P.  Kennedy,  Baltimore,  Maryland;  J.  Lawrence 
Smith,  Louisville,  Ky.;  Prof.  J.  P.  Lesley,  Philadelphia; 
F.  A.  P.  Barnard  (President  Columbia  College),  New 
York ;  Abram  S.  Hewitt,  New  York ;  Paran  Stevens,  New 
York. 

Unpaid  Commissioners. — Alexander  T.  Stewart,  New 
York  ;  Jacob  R.  Freese,  Trenton,  New  Jersey;  Charles  B. 
Norton,  New  York ;  William  J.  Valentine,  London ; 
Thomas  W.  Evans,  M.  D.,  Paris ;  William  A.  Adams, 
Cincinnati,  Ohio;  Frank  Leslie,  New  York;  James 
Archer,  St.  Louis,  Mo. ;  Enoch  R.  Mudge,  Boston ; 
William  A.  Budd,  New  York;  Charles  B.  Seymour,  New 
York;  Francis  Mcllvaine,  Philadelphia  ;  O.  F,  Winchester, 
New  Haven,  Conn. ;  Charles  R.  Goodwin,  Paris ;  D.  M. 
Leatherman,  Tennessee ;  Cornelius  K.  Garrison,  New 
York  ;  Robert  Birney,  New  York;  Lorenzo  D.  McSweat, 
Portland,  Maine  ;  J.  Le  Conte,  Philadelphia. 

State  Commissioners. — Maine,  C.  A.  Shaw ;  Connecti- 
cut, P.  T.  Barnuru ;  New  York,  A.  Baibey ;  Pennsylvania, 
T.  O'Connor ;  Illinois,  J.  P.  Reynolds ;  Indiana,  J.  A. 
Wilstach  ;  Iowa,  J.  M.  Shaffer  ;  Missouri,  J.  L.  Butler ; 
Louisaua,  Edwin  Gottheil ;  West  Virginia,  J.  11.  Diss  De- 


AMERICA'S    SHARE.  215 

bar;  Alabama,  Henry  Haines;  Massachusetts,  J.  M. 
Usher;  California,  W.  P.  Blake;  Georgia,  Charlton 
Way. 

Advisory  Committeemen  (on  different  groups,  and  with 
others). — William  J.  Hoppin,  Prof.  John  W.  Draper,  S. 
B.  Mills,  Robert  L.  Stuart,  Shepherd  Gandy,  J.  R 
Kensett,  John  Taylor  Johnson,  Marshall  O.  Roberts,  R. 
M.  Olyphant,  Charles  P.  Daly,  Jonathan  Sturges,  R.  31. 
Knoedler,  W.  B.  Duncan,  Marcus  Spring,  Henry  W. 
Derby,  Genl.  John  A.  Dix,  Cyrus  Butler,  R.  M.  Hoe,  R. 
P.  Parrott,  W.  T.  Blodgett,  A.  M.  Cozzens. 

It  need  scarcely  be  said  that  there  were  too  many  Com- 
missioners in  proportion  to  the  number  of  articles 
forwarded  ("  Tommy"  said  that  when  the  goods  and  the 
Commissioners  arrived  they  reminded  him  of  the  "  Foreign 
Legion,"  recruiting  at  Staten  Island  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  rebellion,  which  had  twenty-seven  officers  and 
one  private,  until  they  killed  the  latter  by  attempting  to 
form  him  into  a  "  hollow  square !")  And  there  is  not  much 
more  occasion  of  remarking  that  some  of  them,  with  the 
loudest  names,  were  a  combination  of  lay-ligure  and 
death's-head,  doing  no  good  whatever  and  acting  rather 
as  hindrances,  while  upon  other  and  less  pretentious 
shoulders  devolved  the  work  necessary  to  bring  order  out 
of  chaos  and  make  a  great  national  collection  out  of 
a  shamefully  diminutive  one.  General  Commissioner 
Beckwith  was  the  best  abused  American  living,  at  one 
time  (always  excepting  James  Buchanan  and  Andrew 
Johnson),  and  Agent  Derby  received  his  share  of  the 
anathemas ;  but  it  is  just  possible  that  opinions  have  ma- 
terially changed  in  both  regards.  At  all  events  it  was 
found,  when  all  had  been  arranged,  that  something  rather 
creditable  than  the  reverse  had  been  blundered  into  if  not 
exactly  planned  ;  and,  so  much  discovered,  it  only  remained 
that  the  proper  amount  of  special  visits  should  be  paid  by 


216  PARIS   IN   '67. 

Americans  to  the  American  department  and  its  appen- 
dages— the  prizes  duly  fought  for,  appropriated  and 
bragged  over.  A  miserahle  nation  it  would  have  been, 
indeed,  that  did  less  than  the  latter ;  for 

"  Lives  there  a  man  with  soul  so  dead 
He  never  to  himself  hath  said," 

when  imbibing  at  the  American  Bar, 

"This  [whisky]  is  [a  part  of]  ray  own,  my  native  land!" 

And  what  was  the  use  of  sending  over  our  pianos,  if  they 
did  not  bang  and  pound  some  additional  respect  for  us 
into  the  ears  and  consciences  of  Europe? — what  of  our 
soda-fountains,  if  their  contents  did  not  go  "to  the  head," 
to  our  advantage,  with  all  participants? — what  of  our 
mowing-machines,  if  they  did  not  sweep  away  all  oppo- 
nents as  a  Hussey  or  a  McCormick  levels  standing  grain  ? 
— or  of  our  locomotives  if  they  did  not  become  Cars  of 
Juggernaut  to  crush  the  requisite  quantity  of  victims  in 
their  onward  progress  ? 

Perhaps  the  American  Fourth  of  July  in  Paris  (as  that 
of  1867  is  very  likely  to  be  remembered)  could  more 
properly  have  been  spoken  of  in  connection  with  the 
"  eagle's  brood  "  than  thus  late  ;  but  it  has  something  to  do 
with  our  "  honors,"  so  let  the  brief  word  fall  into  its  acci- 
dental place. 

Who,  of  non-resident  Americans  present  in  Paris  on  that 
Independence  Day,  I  wonder,  will  forget  hoAV  they  listened 
at  early  morning,  to  hear  the  sunrise  cannon,  the  bells  and 
the  detonation  of  juvenile  powder — and  missing  them, 
how  they  strained  their  mental  ears  to  think  that  they 
could  catch  some  echo  from  the  jubilant  cannon  and  bells 
and  boyish  squibs  of  home?  Who  will  not  remember  the 
taking  off  of  hats,  that  day,  to  the  Old  Flag  that  floated 
over  the  American  annexe — the  gathering  around  the 
home-made  engines  and  reapers  and  sewing-machines  and 


AMEBIC  A'  8    SHARE.  217 

street-cars,  and  especially  by  that  old  ambulance  grimy 
and  broken  with  the  long  campaigns  of  McClellan  and 
Grant  and  Sherman  and  bearing  the  names  of  so  many  sadly 
glorious  fields, — the  hands  that  clasped,  the  eyes  that 
moistened,  the  tendernesses  of  home  and  the  dear  home-land 
that  seemed  that  day  to  breathe  in  every  breath  and  spring 
up  beneath  every  footstep  ?  Who  will  not  remember  the  • 
sorrow  which  overspread  all  at  the  announcement,  that  day, 
of  the  death  of  Maximilian,  which  threw  the  French  court 
into  mourning,  made  fetes  taboo  and  prevented  the  atten- 
dance of  General  Dix  and  the  other  officials  of  our  lega- 
tion, at  the  Grand  Hotel  Dinner, — but  how  Fetridge  of 
the  guide-books,  and  Fletcher  Harper  of  books  of  all  kinds, 
and  Ruggies  of  the  Financial  Congress,  and  Dan  Mason, 
and  a  dozen  or  two  of  others  equally  patriotic,  toiled 
sturdily  to  make  the  occasion  still  a  memorable  one, 
in  spite  of  the  F 's  who  would  not  join  such  a  gather- 
ing because  it  failed  to  be  copperhead  enough,  not  to  say 

rebel  enough, — and  the  G 's  who  wouldn't  be  caught 

— not  they  ! — in  going  to  a  public  dinner  in  other  array  than 
a  dress  coat !  Who  (of  the  lucky  three  or  four  hundred) 
will  not  remember  how  pleasant  it  was,  that  night,  to  see 
home-faces  (and  especially  the  fair  women  of  home)  around 
the  tables  in  that  regal  Saloon  of  the  Zodiac — to  hear  the 
dear  old  home-speech  as  a  rule  and  not  an  exception,  even 
if  the  waiters  were  stupidly  non-Euglish-speaking  and  we 
found  the  constant  necessity  of  shifting  suddenly  from  : 
"  Oh  yes,  Walter  is  all  right — I  saw  him  on  Broadway  only 
the  day  before  I  left;  but  I  say — isn't  his  sister  Isabella  a 
beauty !"  to  orders  for  ^^j^etites  caisses  de  foies  gras  Peri- 
gueux''  and  "  cotelettes  de pre-sale  aux  jyetits-pois^^ aud^'^ hari- 
cots verts  a  la  Fran^aisey  How  like  many  of  the  hum- 
drum things  of  home  it  was,  to  see  well-meaning, mer- 
cantile old  James  Milliken  presiding,  half  the  time 
vigorously    calling   out   the    wrong   people,    and   all   the 

10 


218  PARIS    IN   '67. 

time  prefacing  tlie  call  with  some  remark  that  put  the 
rising  speaker  to  the  blush.  Hovr  painful  it  was  to  see  the 
length  to  which  party  could  go  in  murdering  nationality — 
guests,  calling  themselves  Americans,  refusing  to  rise  or 
drink  the  toast  to  "  The  President  of  the  United  States !" 
because,  forsooth,  a  man  whom  they  personally  disliked 
happened  to  fill  the  Presidential  chair !  How  some  of  the 
severely  respectable  among  the  speakers  managed  to  turn 
the  festivity  into  solemnity,  for  the  moment,  with  words 
of  the  very  highest  value /'or  6'ome  other  time  and  2>l(i<^& 
than  a  Fourth  of  July  dinner  at  the  Grand  Hotel  ;  how 
Curtin  thrilled  us  with  patriotic  recollections,  and  Forney 
made  us  look  twice  to  see  if  that  gray-headed  and  calm- 
spoken  man  could  be  the  hot-brain  of  old,  and  Dan 
Dougherty  "  set  the  table  in  a  roar,"  with  his  account  of 
the  facilities  enjoyed  by  Americans  for  buying  hats  in 
Paris.  But  how  over  all  and  through  all,  the  old  flag 
seemed  to  be  waving  and  the  eagle  looking  down  with 
his  smile  of  fierce  approval,  and  the  Saloon  of  the  Zodiac, 
for  the  time,  as  much  a  part  of  America  as  ever  had  been 
Independence  Hall  or  the  old  "Cradle  of  Liberty." 

This  "national  event"  thus  briefly  referred  to,  let  the 
more  legitimate  business  of  the  present  paper  be  pursued, 
in  hastily  noting  the  features  in  American  art,  invention 
and  manufacture,  conferring  honor  on  the  nation,  whether 
or  not  they  won  the  recognition  of  cross  or  medal.  And 
something  of  a  very  negative  character  in  the  latter  regard 
naturally  comes  first  in  order. 

In  hastily  glancing  at  the  picture-gallery  of  the  Exposi- 
tion, the  American  pictures  were  purposely  left  unmen- 
tioned,  because  they  demanded  the  justice  of  mention  at 
greater  length  than  was  there  possible.  Had  a  jury  of 
the  Exposition  been  writing,  there  is  every  probability 
that  the  later  as  well  as  the  earlier  mention  would  have 
been  avoided  ;  for  certainly  so  much  of  collective  merit  was 


AMERICA' S    SHARE.  219 

never  before  met  with  such  total  toant  of  appreciation  by 
any  j)'>'€'te7idedly-judieial  body  07i  earth. 

The  American  contribution  of  pictures  has  reflected  the 
very  highest  credit  upon  the  country  whence  it  emanated, 
and  not  even  the  stupidity  or  unfairness  of  a  jury  can  invali- 
date the  fact  in  the  public  mind.  Let  us  see  what  were  the 
works  by  favorite  artists  forming  leading  features,  and 
inquire  what  other  nation  could  be  entitled  to  sweep  cdl 
the  honors  away  from  it.  Something,  of  course,  must  be 
allowed  for  local  feeling  and  local  knowledge  of  sulvjects 
treated  ;  but  even  making  allowance  for  that  prejudice,  if 
we  are  not  a  nation  of  ignoramuses  in  all  that  pertains  to 
art — worshippers  of  daubs  because  they  chance  to  be  our 
own — it  cannot  be  possible  that  we  have  built  entirely 
without  foundation  when  we  reared  a  structure  of  national 
pride,  on — 

Beard's  "  Dancing  Bears,"  Bierstadt's  *'  Rocky  Moun- 
tains," Casilear's  "Plains  of  Genesee,"  Church's  "Nia- 
gara" and  "  Rainy  Season  in  the  Tropics,"  Durand's 
"In  the  Wood,"  Elliott's  "Fletcher  Harper,"  Gignoux's 
"  Mount  Washington,"  Henry  Peters  Gray's  "  Apple  of 
Discord,"  Hubbard's  "  Adirondacks,"  Huntington's  "Re- 
publican Court,"  Eastman  Johnson's  "  Old  Kentucky 
Home,"  "  Violin  Player,"  and  "  Sunday  Morning ;"  Ken- 
sett's  "  Lake  George  in  Autumn,"  "  Opening  in  the  White 
Mountains,"  and  "Morning  on  the  Coast  of  Massachu- 
setts ;"  Leutze's  "  Mary  Stuart  Hearing  Mass,"  AYeir's  "  Gun 
Foundi-y,"  Edwin  White's  "Recollections  of  Siberia," 
MacEntee's  "End  of  October  "  and  "Autumn  in  the  Woods 
of  Asshokau,"  Mignot's  "  Sources  of  the  Susquehanna," 
James  M.  Hart's  "Connecticut  River,"  Gifford's  "Twi- 
light on  ]\Iount  Hunter,"  Healy's  "  General  Sherman," 
Winslow  Homer's  "  Confederate  Prisoners,"  W.  M.  Hunt's 
"  Italian  Boys,"  Geo.  Inness's  "  Sunset  in  America,"  Lamb- 
din's  "  Last  Sleep,"  May's  "  Lear  and,  Cordelia,"  Morau's 


220  PARIS    IN    '67. 

"  Autumn  in  Pennsylvania,"  W.  F.  Richards's  "  Foggy  Day 
at  Nantucket,"  Whittridge's  "Coast  of  Rhode  Island,"  and 
Geo.  A,  Baker's  two  "Portraits." 

Thirty-six  pictures  are  named  in  the  foregoing  selection 
from  the  seventy-five  oil  paintings  exhibited ;  and  to  them 
may  be  added,  under  the  head  of  "  drawings,"  a  spirited 
"Cavalry  Charge  at  Fredericksburg,"  by  Darley,  and  a 
characteristic  "  Wounded  Drummer,"  by  Eastman  John- 
son. Of  the  remaining  works  in  oil,  if  few  or  none  rise  to 
the  level  of  the  pictures  named,  there  is,  at  least,  not  one 
absolutely  discreditable,  and  scarcely  one  that  would  not 
command  warm  admiration  if  removed  into  less  dangerous 
neighborhood.  And  of  that  thirty-six — how  many  hearts 
have  they  filled  with  pleasure  equally  warm  and  intelli- 
gent— how  have  some  of  them  become  synonyms  for 
excellence  in  their  line,  with  sterner  critics  than  com- 
patriots may  always  choose  to  be.  How  has  Beard's 
"Dancing  Bears"  joined  with  his  "March  of  Silenus"  and 
his  "  Grimalkin's  Dream,"  to  stamp  him  as  the  first  deline- 
ator of  humanity  in  animals,  of  any  age  ?  and  Church's 
"Niagara"  literally  thrown  all  other  renderings  of  the 
Great  Fall  out  of  memory,  from  its  blended  excellence  of 
points  of  view,  color  and  management  ?  and  Bierstadt's 
"  Rocky  Mountains  "  absolutely  opened  a  new  world  in 
art,  fascinating  beyond  comparison,  even  if  a  little  reckless 
and  unreal?  and  Eastman  Johnson's  "Old  Kentucky 
Home  "  become  a  housebold  word  as  the  very  best  type  of 
the  picturesque  slave-decline,  now  finally  passed  away  ? 
and  Weir's  "Gun  Foundry"  taken  rank  with  the  very 
finest  efforts  of  the  Dusseldorf  school  in  its  wonderful 
management  of  varying  lights,  besides  displaying  intense 
realism  and  most  accurate  observation  ?  and  Gifford's 
"  Twilight,"  with  that  star  seeming  to  burn  like  living 
fire  in  the  intense  blue,  been  owned  the  very  idealization 
of   nightfall   on   the   romantic    Catskills?    and    Kensett's 


AMERI  CA'  S    SHARE.  221 

"  Lake  George  "  won  the  palm  as  the  purest  of  all  delinea- 
tions of  oft-painted  Horicon  in  its  sweetest  hour  of  Antumn 
repose?  and  Huntington's  "Republican  Court"  been  held 
a  historical  painting  of  marked  value,  as  well  as  an  artistic 
triumph  under  serious  difficulties,  in  grouping  and  cos- 
tume? and  Durand  in  landscape  and  Elliott  in  portraiture 
long  ago  been  admitted  to  that  eclectic  pantheon  from 
which  the  worthily-welcomed  "  go  no  more  out   forever  ?" 

It  was  not — (perish  the  tongue  and  pen  that  would  make 
such  an  assertion) — national  prejudice  alone,  or  even  prin- 
cipally, making  the  thousands  of  intelligent  Americans  who 
walked  through  the  crowded  galleries  of  the  Exposition, 
well  content  with  the  works  of  their  own  artists — ay,  proud 
of  them,  in  the  face  of  all  Europe,  and  when  they  saw  them 
brought  into  comparison  with  many  of  the  best  works  of 
the  age  in  all  lands.  It  was  cultui*ed  pride  in  the  talent 
as  well  as  the  nationality  of  the  painters  which  made  the 
breath  come  a  little  thick,  and  the  throat  swell  a  trifle 
chokingly,  so  often,  when  these  recalled  the  lanpretending 
and  comparatively  nameless  galleries  of  the  New  World. 
And  let  it  be  said,  once  for  all,  that  whatever  may  be  the 
fact  in  historical,  figure  and  genre  painting — branches  of 
art  to  which  too  few  of  our  native  artists  have  yet  been 
wise  enough  to  turn  their  keen  faculty  of  observation — 
nothing  in  the  Exposition  has  invalidated  the  claim  some 
time  since  made  by  the  country,  and  more  than  half  ad- 
mitted by  the  world — that  in  the  field  of  contemporary 
landscape-painting,  America  is  at  the  present  moment  pre- 
eininent  among  the  nations,  and  with  a  fair  prospect  of 
soon  becoming  unapproachable. 

There  have  been  seriously-regretted  absences,  of  course, 
in  the  American  art  department,  as  in  all  others.  Some- 
thing of  Sonntag's,  showing  his  wonderful  management 
of  mist  on  river  scenery,  should  have  found  place.  So  of 
Nast,   some  of  whose  battle-sketches  and  caricatures,  at 


222  PARIS    IN    '67. 

least,  should  have  shown  the  work  of  our  very  hest  de- 
signer, after  Darley  if  not  beside  him.  So  of  J.  G.  Brown, 
confessedly  the  very  best  of  our  pure  genre  painters.  So  of 
George  L.  Brown,  some  of  whose  coast-scenes  would  make 
him  national,  or  even  cosmopolitan,  if  he  had  not  become 
exclusively  wedded  to  Boston.  So  of  Addison  Richards, 
some  of  whose  pieces  of  charming  elaboration  in  foliage 
are  worth  the  study  even  of  Europe.  So  of  Constant  Mayer, 
whose  "  Love's  Melancholy "  should  have  gone  over,  at 
any  sacrifice,  to  show  Frenchmen  how  deftly  their  coun- 
trymen paint  in  a  purer  and  better  atmosphere,  retaining, 
meanwhile,  their  best  recollections  of  home.  Yet  of 
■what  use,  indeed,  would  all  this  have  been,  in  the  face  of 
the  evident  determination  to  prove  that  the  pictorial  art 
of  all  the  world  centred  on  the  European  continent — that 
"American  savages  "  daubed  instead  of  painting  ? 

It  is  almost  idle,  in  conclusion  of  this  branch  of  national 
examination,  to  say  a  word  of  our  exhibition  of  sculpture 
— a  mere  drop  in  the  widest  of  oceans,  in  the  midst  of  the 
overwhehning  collections  of  the  older  nations,  and  not  re- 
markably creditable  even  in  comparison  with  its  extent. 
Ward's  forcible  "  Indian  Hunter  "  has  been  the  best  as  well 
as  the  largest  work  in  the  trifling  array ;  Avhile  Rogers's 
groups  of  statuettes  have  been  almost  too  local  for  cosmo- 
politan understanding;  Miss  Hosmer's  "  Fawns  "  have  given 
little  indication  of  the  power  really  existing  in  the  sculptor 
of  "  Zenobia;"  Launt  Thompson  long  ago  promised  better 
things  than  he  has  fulfilled  in  either  his  "  Napoleon "  or 
his  ''  bust  of  Bryant  " — both  creditable  and  nothing  more  ; 
and  Volk,  representative  of  the  "West,  if  he  has  faithfully 
moulded  our  late  lamented  Chief  Magistrate  has  certainly  not 
caught  him  in  the  happiest  of  moments.  The  best  of  our 
sculptors  (and  we  are  not  rich,  nationally,  in  the  array)  too 
much  lack  scope  and  purpose,  are  too  busy  and  too  much 
European  at  Rome  or  Florence,  or  too  intent  on  finishing 


AMERICA'S    SEARE.  223 

fat-jobs  of  public-ground  monuments,  to  make  much  of  a 
figure  in  the  midst  of  sculpture-gemmed  and  sculpture- 
growing  Europe. 

But  enough  of  American  art  abroad — meritorious  or  the 
reverse — appreciated  or  unappreciated:  a  much  more 
varied  review  of  objects  contributing  to  the  "honors"  we 
have  won  or  deserved,  must  have  place  in  a  concluding 
paper. 


XIX. 

AMERICA'S  SHARE  IN  THE  DIVIDED  HONORS. 

SECOXD   PAPER. 

In  speaking,  with  unavoidable  brevity,  of  so  many  of 
the  quarter-of-a-thousand  prizes  achieved  by  America  at 
the  Exposition  as  seem  to  bear  most  strongly  on  the  national 
honor — some  attempt  at  classification  is  necessary,  and  yet 
by  no  means  that  of  the  Commission  in  the  official  catalogue 
and  report  of  awards.  And  it  is  only  fair  to  premise  that 
the  list  would  have  been  much  largei",  but  for  hindrances 
which  left  many  articles  at  Havre  when  they  should  have 
been  safely  housed  in  the  Exposition  Building  and  enrolled 
in  the  catalogue. 

NATIONAL   AND    STATE    COLLECTIONS. 

Sanitary  Commission  of  the  United  States,  for  collection 
of  material,  used  in  service  during  the  war  of  1861 — grand 
prize. 

EemarJcs. — An  honor  well  deserved,  as  the  collection  reflected  credit 
upon  every  American,  and  awoke  much  national  pride,  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  we  had  suffered  something  too  much  of  the  Sanitary  Commission 
business  before  the  close  of  the  struggle.  In  connection  with  this,  it 
should  be  remarked  that  there  was  also  an  interestiug  exhibition  of 
ambulances,  &c.,  by  the  Quartermaster's  Department,  but  for  some  cause 
placed  "ho)-s  concours,^^  and  not  reckoned  as  in  competition. 

State  of  Illinois,  for  primary  school-house,  silver  medal. 

Remarks. — With  reference  to  this  building,  in  the  park,  enough  has 
been  already  said  in  another  connection. 


AMEBIC  A'  S    SHARE.  225 

Bureau  of  Agriculture,  Washington,  for  collection  of  grains 
and  seeds — bronze  medal. 

State  of  California,  for  collection  of  grains — silver  medal. 

State  of  Wisconsin,  for  do. — bronze  medal. 

State  of  Kansas,  for  do. — bronze  medal. 

State  of  Illinois,  for  do. — bronze  medal. 

State  of  Ohio,  for  do. — bronze  medal. 

State  of  Minnesota,  for  do — honorable  mention. 

State  of  Iowa,  for  do. — honorable  mention. 

Eema.rks. — For  the  second,  if  not  the  first,  grain-growing  country  in 
the  world,  America  did  not  cover  herself  with  honor  in  her  cereals,  in 
the  face  of  the  immense  and  most  excellent  collections  of  France,  Russia, 
Belgium,  Italy,  &c.  Our  collections  were  neither  large  in  extent  nor 
arranged  for  favorable  view.  One  exception,  however,  is  to  be  made : 
the  California  wheat  demanded  attention  for  its  size,  plumpness,  and 
fine  color, — and  received  it. 

State  of  Alabama,  for  short  staple  cotton — honorable 
mention. 

State  of  Pennsylvania,  for  anthracite  coal — bronze  medal. 

State  of  Wisconsin,  for  collection  of  minerals — bronze 
medal. 

State  of  Illinois,  for  collection  of  minerals — silver  medal. 

FemaTks. — In  that  detail  which  only  a  few  years  ago  was  believed 
powerful  enough  to  rule  the  world, — cotton, — the  feeble  exhibition  made 
this  season  was  a  melancholy  mark  of  our  decadence.  A  little  from 
Alabama,  under  State  patronage ;  less  from  Louisiana,  through  private 
enterprise;  and  that  was  alL  "Cotton"  may  be  "king"  again,  but 
not  for  us — the  truth  is  painfully  evident.  Of  coal,  the  Pennsylvania 
collection  was  about  one-tenth  ^^'hat  it  should  have  been,  and  received 
no  justice  in  the  award.  There  were  some  fine  leads  in  the  Illinois 
collection,  and  some  fine  leads  and  coppers  in  that  of  Wisconsin.  And 
no  more  appropriate  place  than  this  could  be  found  to  say  that  in 
minerals,  generally,  America  martyred  her  wonderful  chances — that  the 
gold  and  silver  specimens  from  California,  Colorado,  Idaho,  &c.,  sent  by 
private  parties,  though  meritorious  enough  in  quality,  have  rather 
damaged  than  benefited"  us  in  the  minds  of  Europeans,  by  failing  to 
convey  any  idea  of  our  wonderful  resources  in  minerals,  or  any  suspicion 
what  we  could  and  should  have  done  if  making  an  earnest  competition 
for  a  palm  worth  winning. 
10* 


PARIS    IX    '67. 


FIXE    ARTS. 


Frederick  E.  Church,  New  York  (second  prize),  for  oil 
painting — silver  medal. 

Remarks. — The  general  injustice  done  to  American  artists  has  before 
been  spoken  of.  The  medal  to  Mr.  Churcli,  for  "Niagara,"  which 
should  have  been  a  first  instead  of  a  second  class,  was  no  better  de- 
served than  corresponding  recognition  would  have  been  by  Bierstadt, 
for  the  "Rocky  Mountains;"  Elliot,  for  his  portraits;  Beard,  for  his 
"Dancing  Bears;"  Eastman  Johnson,  for  his  "Old  Kentucky  Home;" 
and  others  whose  names  will  be  recalled  from  the  list  previously  given. 

PEOMOTIOX    OF    HUMAIf    GOOD. 

Cyrus  W.  Field,  New  York,  as  promoter  of  the  system 
of  ocean  telegraphy,  and  in  connection  "with  the  Anglo- 
American  companies — gold  medal. 

Dr.  F.  W.  Evans,  Paris,  for  articles  connected  with  the 
American  Sanitary  Commission,  and  in  conjunction  with 
that  commission — gold  medal. 

Prof.  Hiaghes,  Kentucky,  for  printing  telegraph — gold 
medal. 

Dr.  Jackson,  for  discovery  of  emery  in  America — bronze 
medal. 

Dr.  J.  K.  Barnes,  Surgeon-General,  U.  S.  A.,  for  material 
of  the  military  hospitals  of  the  United  States — silver  medal. 

RemarTcs. — With  reference  to  the  propriety  of  the  first  two  awards 
named  there  can  be  no  question,  Mr.  Field  having  actually  bridged  the 
gulf  between  the  impossible  and  the  possible,  by  forcing  forward  an 
enterprise  which  might  have  lingered  for  a  quarter  of  a  century  longer 
without  him  ;  and  Dr.  Evans  beiug  entitled  to  the  highest  credit  for  his 
Sanitary  Commission  labors,  and  the  preparalion  of  a  collection  reflecting 
pride  upon  every  American.  Opinions  differ  widely  as  to  the  actual 
advance  in  telegraphic  knowledge  and  practicality,  consequent  upon  the 
ideas  of  Prof.  Hughes.  If  the  "Dr.  Jackson,"  as  supposed,  is  Dr. 
Charles  T.  Jackson,  the  geologist,  of  Boston,  the  bronze  medal  is  but  a 
small  addition  to  the  Cross  of  the  Legion  already  for  many  years  worn 
by  him.  Dr.  Barnes's  surgical  services  to  the  army  are  too  well  known 
to  make  even  a  reminder  of  the  propriety  of  his  award  necessary. 


AMERICA' S    SHARE.  227 

MUSICiX   IXSTRmiENTS, 

Stein  way  &  Sons,  New  York,  for  grand,  square,  and 
upright  pianos — first  gold  medal. 

Eemarks. — If  America  has  failed  to  embrace  some  of  her  best  oppor- 
tunities, and  been  unjustly  treated  in  others,  she  has  certainly  both  won 
and  deserved  honor  in  a  detail  in  which  Europe  might  have  been  sup- 
posed to  possess  all  the  advantages  of  age  and  higher  luxury.  That 
American  musical-instrument  manufacturers  should  sweep  away  the  first 
prizes  for  the  construction  of  the  most  diCScult  of  instruments,  with  all 
Europe  in  competition,  may  well  have  astonished  that  large  section  of 
the  world  known  as  "outsiders;"  but  it  can  scarcely  have  produced  a 
similar  effect  either  upon  those  who  haunted  the  Great  Exposition  Build- 
ing very  closely  during  the  summer,  or  those  who  have  been  familiar 
with  the  course  of  piano-manufacture  in  this  country.  For  many  years, 
as  is  well  known,  the  lucky  winners  of  this  first  prize  have  been  adding 
invention  after  invention  to  the  previous  knowledge  of  the  craft,  the 
greatest  of  the  great  problems  being,  always,  improvement  of  materials 
with  reference  to  the  trying  American  chmate,  and  improvement  of  appli- 
cation for  the  production  of  round,  resonant,  and  well-sustained  sound. 
Probably  it  was  quite  as  much  owing  to  the  former  as  the  latter,  that  the 
Steinway  grands,  unimpaired  by  removal,  sea-air,  or  change  of  climate, 
constantly  rolled  such  volumes  of  melodious  souud  through  the  Exposi- 
tion Building,  that  crowds  pressed  around  them  as  if  they  had  supphed 
an  entirely  new  feature  in  musical  construction — that  Felicien  David  (who 
can  forget  the  mctatro  David's  playing  his  owTi  "  Desert"  more  than  half 
through,  one  afternoon,  to  an  enraptured  crowd?)  and  Marmontel,  and 
Mortier  de  Fontaine,  and  Alfred  Jaell,  and  Wieniawski,  and  a  hundred 
other  musical  lights  went  half-mad  over  them — and  that  they  swept 
the  jury  off  their  feet  as  if  their  waves  of  sound  had  been  literal  waves 
of  water.  No  prize,  of  all  the  distribution,  was  better  deserved  than 
that  of  the  Messrs.  Steinway ;  and  none,  probably,  excites  less  jealousy, 
even  if  it  should  happen  to  be  true  that  one  of  the  two  only  medals  of 
the  same  rank  awarded  to  o^j  European  house,  was  awarded  by  special 
order  of  the  Emperor,  and  xvithout  the  piano  contributed  by  that  hofu-se  being 
either  tried  or  even  unlocked  I 

Chickering  &  Sons,  New  York  and  Boston,  for  pianos — 
gold  medal. 

F.  C.  Chickering,  Boston,  Cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor, 
as  distinguished  foreign  citizen  and  mechanician. 


228  PARIS  ly  '67. 

Mason  &  Hamlin,  New  York,  for  cabinet  organs  and 
harmoniums — silver  medah 

Remarks. — Another  honor  most  richly  deserved,  though  the  medal 
might  have  been  gold  without  injury  to  the  cause  of  justice.  Mason  & 
Hamlin,  in  whose  favor,  as  receivers  of  first  honors  at  home,  all  the  other 
American  manufacturers  withdrew,  sent  over  their  ordinary  instruments, 
without  extra  finish  or  preparation,  and  won  one  of  the  three  grand 
prizes  awarded  to  this  class  of  instruments, — the  two  others  being  taken 
by  Miistel,  of  Paris,  and  Trayser,  of  Stuttgart.  It  is  a  well-understood 
fact,  in  Paris,  that  the  Alexandre  prize  was  awarded  to  him  as  a 
pet  of  the  Emperor's  in  the  Mngasin  Reunis,  and  really  without  any 
reference  to  his  organs.  The  Mason  &  Hamlin  organs  were  a  marked 
feature  in  the  Exposition,  winning  European  acknowledgment  of  the 
roundness  and  fullness  of  their  tone,  and  the  compact  beauty  and  excel- 
lence of  their  model, — reflecting  honor  on  the  country,  and  well  deserv- 
ing their  first-class  recognition. 

J.  Gemunder,  New  York,  for  stringed  instruments — 
bronze  medal. 

L.  Schrieber,  New  York,  for  brass  wind-instruments — 
bronze  medal. 

STEAM    ENGINES    AND    MACHINERY. 

Grant  Locomotive  Works,  Paterson,  New  Jersey,  for 
locomotive  "  America  " — gold  raedaL 

Remarks. — An  award  eminently  satisfactory,  especially  to  the  thou- 
Bands  of  Americans  who  gathered  round  the  splendid  engine,  on  the 
Fourth  of  July  and  so  many  other  days,  and  marked  its  massive  weight, 
matchless  grace,  perfect  finish,  and  evidence  of  wonderful  power.  It 
ennobled  the  shabby  American  annexe,  from  the  moment  of  entering;  it 
completed  the  triumph  of  American  rolling-stock  over  European ;  and 
the  American  people  owe  Grant  another  medal,  if  he  is  not  satisfied  with 
the  present  one,  for  giving  them  so  fair  an  object  of  legitimate  pride  and 
boast.  It  would  be  pleasant  to  believe  that  the  European  engine-builders 
may  have  learned  something  from  it,  in  the  way  of  combining  power 
and  beauty ;  but  that  might  be  too  much  to  hope  ! 

Corliss  Steam-Engine  Company,  Providence,  for  station- 
ary engine — gold  medal. 

Remarks, — An  elaborately  finished  engine,  attracting  much  attention 
throughout  all  the  exhibition,  for  the  quiet  force  of  its  movement,  which 
some  one  designated  as  "  working  as  gentlj'  as  an  infant's  breathing. 


AMEBIC  A'  S    SHARE.  229 

while  it  carried  a  power  mighty  enough  to  unsettle  a  pyramid;"  and  the 
award  only  indorses  the  previous  standing  of  the  engine-builders,  hte- 
raUy  at  the  head  of  that  important  branch  of  motor-construction. 

J.  B.  Root,  New  York,  for  rotary  (trunk)  engine — 
bronze  medal. 

Remarks. — The  story  of  this  award  is  somewhat  curious.  Mr.  Bacon, 
of  the  Boston  cracker-bakery,  carried  over  an  ordinary  Root  Trunk 
Engine,  of  small  size,  to  run  his  machinery,  its  entire  want  of  ornamenta- 
tion makiog  it  literally  more  ordinary-looking  than  those  commonly  in 
store.  It  was  not  thought  of  as  in  competition;  but  its  obvious  light- 
ness, compactness,  economy  of  space  and  fuel,  and  matchless  fitness  for 
manufacturing  purposes,  carried  the  visitors  captive,  and  forced  the 
jury  into  awarding  a  medal  that  had  never  been  asked  for  I  In  some 
regards  this  testimonial  to  the  Root  Engine  is  the  very  highest  of  all  the 
awards  of  the  Exposition ;  but  the  hundreds  of  houses  in  New  York 
and  elsewhere,  that  employ  this  motor,  will  feel  no  surprise  at  the 
event. 

There  is  a  regret,  however,  connected  with  the  presence  of  this 
engine.  The  Root  Tubular  Boiler  should  have  been  with  it,  and  there 
is  no  question  whatever  that  a  gold  medal  would  have  been  the  result. 
For  really  a  boiler  that  cannot  explode ;  that  can  be  made  larger  at 
will,  using  all  the  previous  material;  that  can  be  taken  apart  and 
packed  in  hundred-pound  pieces,  to  carry  over  a  plain  or  up  a  mountain ; 
that  takes  little  space,  and  can  be  examined  as  to  any  place  of  defect  in 
a  moment — such  an  anomaly  as  this  (and  all  this  is  the  Root  Boiler) 
might  have  astonished  even  Johnny  Crapaud,  who  does  not  astonish 
easily. 

Awards  also  in  this  department  to  W.  B.  Douglas, 
Conn,,  for  pumps ;  to  L.  H.  Olmsted,  Conn,,  for  pulleys ; 
to  Pickering  &  Davis,  New  York,  for  spring  steam-engine 
governor  ;  to  Howe  Scale  Co.,  Vt.,  for  scales ;  to  Andrews 
&  Bros,,  New  York,  for  oscillating  engine  ;  to  H.  C. 
Dart,  for  rotary  engine ;  to  Clark  Fire-Damper  Company, 
and  American  Steam-Gauge  Company, for  steam-registers; 
to  J.  Dwight  &  Co.,  for  steam-pump  ;  to  Hicks  Engine 
Company,  New  York,  for  engine ;  to  F,  S.  Pease,  Buifalo, 
for  petroleum-pump ;  to  J.  A.  Robinson,  New  York,  for 
Ericsson  hot-air  engine  ;  to  Sellers  &  Co.,  Phila.,  for  tool- 


230  PARIS    IN    '67. 

machine ;  to  Brown  &  Sharpe,  Providence,  for  spinning- 
machine;  to  Wickersham  &  Co.,  for  nail-machine;  to  I. 
Gregg,  Philadelphia,  for  brick-machine ;  to  Harris  &  Co., 
Springfield,  for  lathes,  &c.,  &c. ;  and  to 

Fairbanks  &  Co.,  New  York,  and  St.  Johnsbury,  Vt.,  for 
scales  and  railway  scales — silver  medal  and  bronze  medal. 

Remarks. — Apart  from  the  standard  character  of  the  Fairbanks  scales, 
and  the  attention  which  they  attracted  in  the  American  annexe^  this 
award  would  have  been  well  made,  if  only  to  mark  apprewation  of  a 
firm  who  have  raised  the  business  of  scale-manufacture  from  compara- 
tive nothing  to  one  of  the  largest  in  the  Union  or  elsewhere — at  the 
same  time  that  they  have  contributed  so  largely  to  that  great  desidera- 
tum for  tlie  wliole  mercantile  world :  Reliable  weights  and  measures. 

C.  H.  McCormick,  Chicago,  for  reaping  and  mowing 
machines — gold  medal. 

Walter  A.  Wood,  Hoosic  Falls,  New  York,  for  mowing 
and  reaping  machines — gold  medal. 

J.  G.  Perry,  Kingston,  for  Mowing-Machines — bronze 
medal. 

SEWIXG    AND    BUTTON-HOLE    MACHINES. 

Howe  Machine  Company,  New  York,  for  sewing- 
machines — gold  medal.  To  Elias  Howe,  Jr.,  as  promoter 
of  manufacture  of  sewing-machines — Cross  of  the  Legion 
of  Honor. 

Remarks. — This  double-first  honor  to  the  Howe  machine  and  its 
proprietor,  not  only  tallied  with  the  universal  indorsement  at  the 
Exposition,  for  its  perfection  of  work  and  action,  but  came  with  a 
peculiar  appropriateness  to  the  last  days  of  Mr.  Howe,  who,  since  that 
award,  has  already  laid  aside  the  red  ribbon  and  gone  to  his  rest,  after 
nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century  of  later  life  devoted  to  the  invention  and 
perfection  of  the  machine  bearing  his  name,  and  thus  leading  the  list 
of  American  sewing-machines,  at  home  and  abroad. 

Florence  Sewing-Machine  Company,  New  York,  for 
family  sewing-machines — silver  medal. 

Remarks. — Another  award  eminently  well  deserved,  all  observation 
at  the  Exposition  and  elsewhere  demonstrating  that,  as  a  reliable, 
effective  family  sewing-maehine,  the  Florence  is  destined  to  take  con- 
tinually higher  rank,  and  fill  a  place  otherwise  left  vacant. 


AMERICA'  S    SHARE.  231 

Weed  Sewing-Machine  Company,  New  York,  for  sew- 
ing-machines— silver  medal. 

Empire  Sewing-Machine  Company,  New  York,  for  sew- 
ing-machines— honorable  mention. 

A.  B.  Howe,  New  York,  for  sewing-machines — bronze 
medal. 

Wheeler  &  Wilson,  New  York,  for  button-hole  machines 
— gold  medal. 

A.  J.  House,  New  York  (house  of  Wheeler  &  Wilson), 
as  co-operator  in  button-hole  machine  invention — bronze 
medal. 

A.  H.  House,  New  York  (house  of  Wheeler  &  Wilson), 
as  do.,  do. 

Bemarks. — Very  high  appreciation  of  the  "Wheeler  &  "Wilson  button- 
hole machine  (which  is  understood  to  owe  much  of  its  success  to  one  of 
the  working-proprietors,  Mr.  A.  G.  Seaman,  formerly  connected  with  the 
Superintendeucy  of  Public  Printing,  at  "Washington)  was  shown  by  the 
jury  in  conferring  upon  both  the  Brothers  House,  the  sole  inventors, 
medals  of  honor  as  co-operators.  The  truth  is,  that  if  aristocratic 
Europe  is  "above  buttons,"  it  is  not  above  buUon-hoks ;  and  that  this 
little  American  invention,  whicli  does  so  well  what  most  persons  so  much 
dislike  to  do  by  hand,  and  what  so  large  a  proportion  do  so  badly,  still 
retains  its  charm  of  novelty  to  the  mechanicians  of  the  Old  "World,  who 
have  not  yet  found  time  to  "appropriate"  it  in  so-called  "inventions" 
of  their  own,  as  they  have  unscrupulously  done  with  every  form  and 
pattern  of  the  American  sewing-machine — with  the  most  ludicrous  of 
artistic  effects,  however. 

American  Button-Hole  Company,  Philadelphia,  for 
button-hole  machines — silver  medal. 

Union  Button-Hole  and  Embroidery  Company,  Boston, 
for  button-hole  machines — bronze  medal. 

Bartram  &  Fenton  Company,  Danbury,  for  button-hole 
macliines — bronze  medal. 

Hinkley  Knitting-Machine  Company,  Bath,  Maine,  for 
knitting-machines — bronze  medal. 

Remarks. — A  very  ingenious  little  machine,  with  a  single  needle,  great 


232  PARIS   ly   '67. 

simplicity  and  rapidity,  and  a  prospect  that  it  will  at  no  distant  day 
drive  tlie  old  grandmother  from  her  needles,  and  revolutionize  the  whole 
system  of  "knitting  sale-socks." 

MISCEIXANEOrS, 

John  Stephenson,  New  York,  for  street-railway  carriage 
(car) — honorable  mention. 

Remarks. — There  is  a  brief  story  attached  to  the  Stephenson  car,  too. 
One  of  the  handsomest  things  of  its  class  ever  built,  even  by  this  manu- 
facturer, who  supphes  America,  Europe,  Asia  and  the  islands  of  the  sea, 
— designed  for  the  Calcutta  Railway  and  stranded  in  the  wreck  of  the 
Calcutta  Bank, — it  attracted  wonderful  attention  in  the  American  annexe, 
and  reminded  more  people  of  the  missing  loves  and  delights  of  home 
than  almost  any  thing  else  in  the  exhibition.  It  would  have  taken  a 
gold  medal,  beyond  a  doubt,  in  recognition  of  its  own  perfection,  and  the 
claims  of  by  far  the  best  builder  of  street-cars  and  omnibuses  on  either 
continent — but  for  the  little  difficulty  that  half  the  people  of  Europe,  from 
whom  the  juries  came,  know  nothing  of  what  a  streetcar  is,  and  the  other  half 
hate  and  fear  the  whole  idea  of  laying  rails  in  city  streets. 

Wood  Brothers,  New  York,  for  phaeton — silver  medal. 

Hall  &  Sons,  Boston,  for  carriages — silver  medal. 

Remarks. — More  scope  for  fault-finding.  Two  or  three  carriages,  well- 
enough  in  their  way,  but  such  an  apology  for  a  "  display  "  as  seemed 
little  less  than  a  farce.  We  have  a  carriage-maker  in  America,  whose 
splendid  vehicles  whirl  almost  as  continuously  through  the  parks 
of  London,  Paris,  and  Vienna,  as  through  our  own  at  home.  The  ques- 
tion is  for  Brewster  of  Broome  Street  (now  just  occupying  his  magnifi- 
cent new  repository  at  Fifth  Avenue  and  Fourteenth  Street) — Why 
were  not  a  cloud  of  those  light,  elegant  and  perfectly-appointed  carriages, 
the  very  ideal  of  combined  strength,  taste,  and  finish,  sent  over  to  add  to 
the  national  prestige,  and  show  Europeans  that  we  know  how  to  ride  as 
well  as  walk?  Mr.  Brewster,  son  and  scion  of  the  Brewster,  and  admit- 
tedly first  of  American  carriage-builders,  must  do  better  next  time,  or 
explain  the  reason  why  he  does  not  I 

Farrell  <fc  Shening,  New  York,  for  safes  {^^  coffres  forts'''') 
— bronze  medal. 

Remarks. — Even  anxious  inquiry  has  failed  to  discover  the  locality  of 
the  above  bronze-medalists,  named  in  the  official  report ;  but  the  truth 
is  that,  as  Mr.  Toots  might  say,  it  is  of  no  consequence.     The  American 


AMFEI  CA'  S    SHARE.  233 

display  of  safes,  which  might  so  easily  have  been  a  tine  one  (for  we 
have  first-class  safe-makers),  really  amounted  to  nothing  in  the  face  of 
the  splendid  English,  Austrian,  Prussian,  Belgian,  &c.  Better  luck,  fol- 
lowing more  creditable  things,  next  time. 

L.  M.  Rutherford,  New  York,  for  astronomical  photo- 
graphs— silver  medal.  Watkins,  San  Francisco,  landscapes, 
bronze  do.  S.  Beer,  New  York,  stereoscopic  proofs,  do. 
Willard  &  Co.,  New  York,  objectives,  do. 

Hemarks. — Such  is  the  beggarly  account  of  photographic  prizes  taken, 
and  nothing  better  deserved,  by  a  nation  which  really  furnishes  the  best 
photography  yet  achieved;  and  there  should  be  some  means  of  severely 
punishing  the  defaulters.  To-day,  in  all  the  higher  walks  of  portraiture, 
both  Gurney  and  Brady,  of  New  York,  are  the  superiors  of  Xadar  and 
Thibault,  of  Paris;  the  cards  and  imperials  of  celebrities  and  ''the 
people,"  coming  from  the  studio  of  the  former,  and  the  simQarwork  and 
national  collection  of  the  latter,  are  artistic  features  in  the  city  and 
the  land,  as  well  as  the  clearest  and  purest  untouched-work  known  to 
the  art ;  and  during  this  very  Exposition,  some  of  the  cards  issued  by 
Jordan  from  his  unpretending  atelier,  in  Greenwich  Street,  have  posed 
more  than  one  of  the  Parisian  photographers  to  find  their  equal. 
American  portrait  photography  to-day  leads  the  world:  what  a  shame 
that  its  high-priests  should  have  allowed  the  honors  to  fail  from  the  lack 
of  respectable  contestants !  The  blame  lies  principally  with  Gurney  and 
Brady,  the  former  of  whom  was  probably  too  busy  joining  Fabronius 
in  chromo.-lfthing,  and  the  latter  in  catching  and  fixing  all  the  gene- 
rals and  statesmen,  to  have  tune  for  the  obvious  duty  laid  upon  them  by 
the  Exposition. 

C.  G.  Gunther  &  Sons,  New  York,  for  display  of  furs 
— silver  medal. 

BemarJis. — A  well-deserved  premium,  for  one  of  the  most  creditable, 
varied,  and  pleasing  displays  in  the  Exposition,  emanating,  too,  from  a 
firm  who  have  been  for  nearly  half  a  century  elevating  American  fur- 
riery to  its  present  height,  and  who  are  to-day  (what  not  all  who  know 
them  suspect)  the  very  largest  fur-dealers  and  furriers  in  the  world,  as 
well  as  the  purveyors  of  fashion,  nobility,  and  even  royalty.  There 
seemed  half  a  menagerie  of  stuifed  bears,  wolves,  and  foxes,  in  their 
corner;  and  the  rich  robes  and  ladies'  furs — how  some  of  us  will  remem- 
ber that  warm  collection  when  the  winter  wind  nips  a  httle  more  closely  I 


233a  PARIS    IN    '67. 

Tiffany  &  Co.,  New  York,  for  silver  ware — bronze 
medal. 

Hemarks. — The  very  creditable  display  of  this  house  was  headed  by  a 
splendid  model  in  solid  silver,  some  two  and  a  half  feet  high,  of  the 
Crawford  Statue  orowning  the  Capitol  at  Washington;  accompanied  by 
two  exquisite  models  in  silver,  well  remembered  by  New  Yorkers,  of  the 
Sound-steamer  "  Commonwealth  "  and  the  steamship  "  Vanderbilt ;"  and 
supplemented  by  an  excellent  collection  of  rich  table-ware,  from  the 
slielves  and  not  made  for  the  occasion.  But  even  this  display,  so  pleas- 
ing to  American  eyes,  will  no  doubt  be  far  surpassed  at  that  early  day 
when  the  diamonds,  precious  stones,  and  rich  plate  flash  from  the 
new  buUding  that  is  to  supplant  the  Church  of  the  Puritans,  on  Union 
Square. 

"  HORS   CONCOTJRS." 

Ingersoll's  life-boat  ship  "Red,  White,  and  Blue,"  and 
— every  thing  else ! 

Bemarks. — Space  fails ;  and  not  even  the  justice  of  respectable  men- 
tion can  be  given  to  Dr.  Howe's  Books  for  the  Blind;  Duffield's  Hams; 
Brown  and  Level's  Boat-Hoisting  apparatus ;  Daboll's  Fog-Trumpet ; 
Smith's  Ales;  Burt's  Shoes;  Bacon's  Cracker  Bakery;  Day's  India 
Rubber ;  Colt's,  Smith  &  "Wesson's,  Remington's,  Providence,  Windsor, 
and  other  Fire-Arms ;  Gail  Borden's  Condensed  Meats;  Tieman's  Sur- 
gical Instruments;  the  California  and  Ohio  Wines ;  the  Canned  Fruits 
from  New  Orleans  and  New  York ;  Chapin's  Rotary  Bridge ;  Gregg's 
Brick  Machine;  Goodell's  Apple-Parers;  the  Agricultural  Products  of 
(New  Jersey)  Vineland ;  Appleton's  and  Houghton's  Books  ;' White's  and 
Allen's  Artificial  Teeth ;  Selpho's  Legs ;  Cummings'  Hospital  Wagon ; 
Bond's  Astronomical  Clocks  and  Instruments  ;  the  Charts  of  the  Hydro- 
graphic  Bureau ;  Howell's  Paper  Hangings ;  Tucker's  Iron  Bronzes ; 
Wriglit's  Perfumery;  Collins' Axes;  the  New  York  Mills  Cotton  Goods; 
the  AVebster  and  Mission  Wooleus  ;  the  Williams  Silks ;  the  Washington 
Shawls ;  the  T  obaccos  of  New  Orleans,  Virginia,  and  New  York  ;  Pease's 
Petroleum  Oils;  the  Belmont  Parafiues;  Wells'  Type-Dresser;  Degener's 
Printing  Presses;  the  American  Soda  Fountains — not  to  these,  nor  any 
other  of  the  hundred  remaining  objects,  all  of  which  filled  up  some  space 
for  the  jealous  eye  of  the  American  abroad,  and  added  to  the  roll  of  his 
national  honors. 

Then,  what  could  we  not  have  done — once  morel — even  in  splendors 
once  entirely  European?  We  have  reached  that  pitch  of  luxury  in 
which  we  have  ''parlors,"  now,  instead  of  vulgar  "shops;"  and  in  one 


AMERICA'S    SHARE.  2336 

of  them — that  of  Stevens,  on  Union  Square — glitter  through  the  plate- 
glass  windows  many  of  the  choicest  articles  notable  at  the  Exposition  ; 
while  rich  bronzes  aud  porcelains  seem  melting  under  the  eye,  and 
such  structures  in  diamonds  and  precious  stones,  and  such  elabo- 
rations in  heavy  plate,  all  made  to  order,  in  the  very  imitation  of 
royalty,  go  out  every  day,  as  would  equally  become  the  boudoir  and  the 
buffet  of  a  Duchess.  And  in  yet  another  "  parlor  " — that  of  Burr,  on 
Broadway,  just  now  fairly  opening  in  all  its  splendor — there  are  not  only 
the  appointments  of  a  drawing-room  of  unequaled  luxurj',  but  such  a 
sea  of  diamonds  and  other  gems  that  one  seems  almost  to  drown  in 
them — while  one  single  necklace  (not  matched  by  many  things  even  in 
monarchical  Europe)  displays  sixty  thousand  dollars  in  a  cluster! 
Manufactured,  as  well  as  exhibited,  too ;  for  Burr  is  the  father  of  the 
diamond-trade  in  America,  builds  his  own  clusters  of  splendor,  as  if  he 
might  be  weaving  rainbows,  and  attracts  the  dames  of  Fifth  Avenue 
and  Murray  Hill,  as  the  occupants  of  few  "  parlors"  could  do,  whatever 
their  claims  to  wealth  and  fashion. 

And  in  buildings  and  the  occupation  of  them,  what  could  we  not  sliow 
in  an  exhibition  broad  enough  to  reach  us  ?  As  a  building  for  its  costly 
purpose,  apart  from  the  Aladdin's-palace  of  splendor-in-goods  which  it 
holds.  Ball  &  Black's  stands  to-day,  as  it  stood  when  the  Prince  of 
Wales  replenished  his  jewelry-cases  at  it,  a  wonder  of  massive  architec- 
ture, without,  and  a  yet  greater  wonder,  far  beyond  any  thing  of  its  class 
in  Europe,  in  that  interior  where  frescoed  ceilings  and  crusted  columns 
furnish  sky  and  horizon  for  the  gardens  of  gems.  Of  the  gems  them- 
selves, the  bronzes,  plate,  and  articles  of  Caste  and  virtu,  what  better 
wish  could  there  be  tlian  that  the  whole  of  them,  with  the  building, 
could  have  been  dropped  down  on  the  Boulevards  in  June  ? 

"Why  cannot  the  next  Exposition  come  to  us,  instead  of  our  going  to 
it — so  that  we  could  show  all  tliese  magniticences  ?  and  Walraven's, 
Brown  &  Spaulding's,  Haughwout's,  Gale's,  Lord  &  Taylor's,  Brewster's, 
&c. ;  and  Stewart's  new  palace,  with  one  corner  missing ;  and  one  or 
two  of  the  new  Express  buildings,  with  their  wagons ;  and  a  Sound- 
steamer  of  the  four-storied  character;  and  "Norwood;"  and  one  of  our 
tax-lists ;  and  a  distillery  ;  and  an  election ;  and  no  longer  be  obliged  to 
mope  over  "America's  share  of  the  divided  honors,"  but  quietly  put 
all  the  honors  in  our  own  pockets,  instead  of  almost  all,  leaving  a  small 
margin  for  "outside  barbarians,"  as  France  has  done  I 


XX. 

THE  SIDE-SHOWS  OF  PARIS. 

It  is  not  always  possible  to  say  the  most  about  the  thing 
justifying  the  most  extended  comment;  and  the  "side- 
shows of  Paris  " — theme  upon  which  a  thousand  writers 
have  descanted  and  a  thousand  more  might  descant  without 
exhausting  it — must  be  handled  with  the  utmost  brevity, 
from  the  double  fact  that  to  the  Parisian  habitue  any  labor- 
ed resume  of  them  could  not  be  otherwise  than  tantalizing 
from  its  incompleteness,  while  to  the  absentee  no  similar 
array  of  words  could  possibly  convey  less  meaning.  The 
invitation  to  "see  Paris  and  die!"  in  which  that  capital 
disputes  with  Naples,  has  something  of  common-sense  in 
its  origin,  no  city  on  the  globe  more  palpably  needing  to  be 
"  seen,  to  be  appreciated"  Of  no  city  in  the  world,  prob- 
ably, is  the  atmospheric  aroma  more  difficult  to  catch, 
bottle  and  carry  away  for  distant  distribution  ;  while  there 
is  cei'tainly  none  more  easy  to  distinguish,  though  perhaps 
not  always  to  analyze,  while  under  its  immediate  influence. 

The  visitor  to  Paris,  with  any  less-notable  special  object 
in  view  than  the  Great  Exposition,  during  the  summer  of 
'67,  would  have  been  in  serious  danger  of  falling  into  that 
trouble  which,  they  say,  sometimes  occurs  with  a  dinner — ^ 
the  hors  (Voeuvres,  or  side-dishes,  being  so  much  more 
appetizing  than  the  central  ones,  that  the  latter,  subject  of 
principal  preparation  and  pride,  fall  into  painful  discredit. 
The  Exposition  itself  has  been  overwhelmingly-attractive 
enough  in  the  present  instance  to  obviate  any  such  peril, 


SIDE-SHOWS.  235 

though  a  correspouding  fact  remains — that  to  a  very  large 
part  of  those  now  visiting  Paris  for  the  first  time,  the 
strength  and  variety  of  outside  attractions  have  tended 
somewhat  to  confuse  the  callow  mind,  with  doubts 
whether  a  certain  statue  or  picture  was  seen  within  the 
Exposition-grounds  or  at  the  Louvre  or  Versailles — wheth- 
er it  really  was  at  Asnieres  that  the  cancan  was  so  audac- 
iously danced  on  a  certain  evening,  or  that  the  perform- 
ance took  place  in  some  one  of  the  departments  of  the 
"  great  show  !"  If  older  hal)itues  of  Paris  have  escaped 
similar  confusion,  it  is  well :  if  the  Governor  does  not 
prove,  before  he  concludes  the  present  paper,  that  a  state 
of  vin  ordinaire  and  grisette-worship  has  been  his  normal 
condition  during  late  visits,  better  still. 

How  shall  one  proceed  to  indicate,  even  in  the  dryest 
manner,  the  variety  and  brilliancy  of  the  "  side-shows  "  that 
have  wooed  the  stranger  temporarily  turned  Parisian  ? 
Where  begin — where  leave  off?  Ah,  the  answer  comes, 
something  as  it  comes  to  a  poor  wretch  with  a  horribly 
ennueyed  evening  before  him  and  a  serious  question  what 
to  do  with  himself:  "  To  the  theatre  !" 

Perhaps,  after  all,  the  thentre,  with  the  phrase  including 
alike  the  opera  and  the  cafe-chantante,  h  the  first  and  most 
legitimate  of  Parisian  amusements.  Everybody  goes  to 
the  theatre,  residents  and  visitors — of  the  latter,  classes  who 
no  more  attend  such  performances,  at  home,  than  they  fre- 
quent bagnios,  and  who  do  not  intend  to  continue  the  habit 
a  mile  beyond  the  charmed  (and  charming)  precincts.  Of 
course,  not  all  the  theaters  and  more-or-less-eclectic  opera- 
houses  of  Paris  have  been  open  during  what  might  be  called 
"  the  height  of  the  Exhibition  summer ;"  but  at  no  time 
have  there  failed  to  be  more  houses  open  than  any  other 
city  ever  saw  even  in  the  midst  of  the  winter  amusement- 
season.  And  in  those  earlier  days  in  which  "Tommy"  and 
the  "  Counsellor's  Lady  "  saw  the  Opening — ay,  even  on  to 


236  PARIS   ly   '67. 

those  in  which  the  latter  saw  and  described  the  great  Im- 
perial Balls — have  not  literally  all  of  them  wooed  attend- 
ance and  rounded  the  pleasant  circle  of  Parisian  dissipations? 
Has  not  the  Grand  Opera  (first  or  last)  been  blessed  with 
Patti? — Patti,  of  whom  the  best  7not  of  the  season  has  lately- 
gone  the  rounds  of  Paris,  doubly  capital  to  those  familiar 
with  the  musical  composition,  "Rose  and  Rossignol;"  that 
"Patti's  mouth,  when  she  opens  it,  is  not  only  'rose'  (pink 
red)  but  'rossignol'  (nightingale)."  Has  not  the  Theatre 
Lyrique  shared  in  the  glory,  sharing,  too,  in  alternations 
of  silver-voiced  Miolan-Carvalho  and  the  Swedish  second 
Jenny  Lind,  delicious  Pauline  NOsson — as  it  is  to  be  first, 
now,  in  presenting  to  France  opinionated,  overrated,  but 
effective  and  popular  Kellogg?  Has  not  the  Theatre 
Francais,  leading  French  school  of  dramatic  art,  and  its 
wonderful  company  always  designated  as  "the  Emperor's 
comedians,"  pi-esented  tragedy  and  comedy  in  such  rare 
perfection  that  the  acting  of  colder  ^N'ortherners  has  seemed 
little  else  than  fi'ozen,  inane  stupidity?  Has  not  the 
Italiens  had  its  grand  opera,  too,  and  its  Patti,  too,  with 
weeks,  during  midsummer,  in  which  Ned  Sothern,  funnier 
than  ever,  has  driven  the  only  half-understanding  Parisians 
wild  with  the  "  exquisite  fooling "  of  Lord  Dundreary  ? 
Has  not  the  Varietes  given  such  ravishing  renderings  of 
Ofienbach's  "Grande  Duchesse  de  Gerolstein"  (its  rare 
comic  and  musical  beauties  since  more  than  half  caricatured 
in  this  country,  though  eftective  even  so),  that  to  hear  be- 
witching Mile.  Schneider  and  make  the  acquaintance  of  the 
Grande  Duchesse,  Fritz,  and  Prince  Paul,  monarch  after 
monarch  has  rushed  there  on  the  very  first  evening  of  arri- 
val ?  Has  not  the  Vaudeville  been  exhibiting  excellence 
in  acting,  scarcely  second  to  that  of  the  Francais,  in  the 
continuance  of  its  marvelous  success,  "  La  Famille  Benoi- 
ton"  (played  here  atWallack's  as  "The  Fast  Family,"  and 
at  the  New  York  Theatre  Fran9ai8  in  its  original  shape)? 


siDE-snows.  237 

Has  not  the  spectacular  Porte  St.  Martin,  after  a  very  brief 
alternation,  still  run  on  the  very  same  "  Biche  au  Bois," 
scenery  magnificent,  costume  scanty,  and  legs  predomi- 
nant, which  the  Governor  and  St.  Edward  saw  there  so 
long  ago  as  '65 — and  added  to  it  the  lion-taming  marvels 
of  Batty,  imtil  the  lion  tamed  Batty  by  partially  eating 
him  up  ?  Has  not  the  Chatelet,  spectacular  rival  of  the 
Porte  St.  Martin,  at  last  free  from  the  profitable  debris  of 
"  Le  Deluge,"  restored  the  voluptuous  half-naked  splendors 
of  "  Cendrillon  "  (which  New  Yorkers,  too,  more  or  less 
enjoyed  in  the  Hinkley  production  at  the  New  York,  last 
season)  ?'' 

Has  not  the  Ambigu  supplied  a  spectacle  quite  as  sensa- 
tional as  either  of  the  others  in  "  Le  Juif  Errant  "  (dram- 
atization of  Eugene  Sue's  "  Wandering  Jew,"  with  all  the 
horrors,  and  eke  all  the  immoralities  of  that  remarkable 
work,  carefully  preserved )  ?  Has  not  the  Palais  Royal 
given  "  Vie  de  Paris  "  so  naturally  that  the  visitors  (some 
of  them  royal,  too)  have  almost  believed  that  they  were 
really  in  the  midst  of  actual  delicious  breaches  of  the  vari- 
ous commandments,  instead  of  merely  present  at  a  repre- 
sentation ?  Has  not  the  Folies  Dramatiques  equalled 
either  in  the  sensational  effects  and  the  rampant  wickedness 
of  "  Les  Canotiers  de  la  Seine  ?"  Has  not  the  Opera 
Comique  supplied  opera  equal  to  that  of  the  Grand  Opera, 
with  plenty  of  the  mirth  demanded  by  modern  taste  to 
season  it  ?  Has  not  the  Odeon  supplied  drama  of  the  most 
pronounced  character ;  and  the  Gaiete  allowed  Menken  to 
ride  triumphant  over  the  Avorld,  more  sans  costume  than 
en  costume^  in  her  Mazeppa  and  "  Pirates  de  la  Savanne;" 
and  the  Fantaises  Parisiennes  given  comic  opera  of  a  little 
more  free-and-easy  order  than  either  of  those  already 
named  (all  tastes  are  to  be  suited,  and  must  be  suited,  at 
Paris)  ;  and  have  not  the  Cirque  Napoleon  and  its  rival, 
the  Theatre  du  Prince  Imperial,  supplied  horse-opera  in 


238  PARIS   IN   '67. 

which  the  question  which  was  the  horse  and  which  the 
rider  ("  vichever  you  please,  my  dear ! — you  pays  your 
money  and  you  takes  your  choice  !  ")  has  sometimes  seemed 
to  be  more  than  doubtful  ?  But  the  list  grows  wearisome, 
even  if  instructive,  and  it  must  conclude  with  the  inquiry 
whether  the  Gymnase  has  forgotten  its  old  specialty  of 
spectacle  mounted  to  the  verge  of  intense  realism,  and  ' 
whether  there  has  been  no  Bouffes  Parisians,  wedded  to 
Offenbach  among  composers  and  inevitable  in  musical 
comedies  and  vaudevilles? 

Close  after  the  Theatres  of  Paris  naturally  come  the 
salons  de  concert  champetre  (to  use  a  phrase  of  which  the 
French  have  probably  never  thought) — the  open-air  con- 
cert-salons, literally — the  cafes  chantante  in  which  and 
around  which  so  much  of  Parisian  "  life  "  (in  several  senses) 
inevitably  congregates.  Their  numbers  are  legion,  in  one 
shape  and  another,  under  cover  and  .out  of  cover,  and  their 
degrees  of  irresistable  vivacity  and  irreproachable  inde- 
cency as  varied  as  their  localities.  Singing  is  the  declared 
feature  of  most  of  them — singing,  principally  by  females ; 
and  the  physical  exhibitions  which  a  French  woman 
knows  how  to  make  as  no  other  woman  on  earth,  supply 
even  a  side-show  to  the  side-show.  In  winter  many  of  the 
best  of  them  have  winter-quarters  on  the  Boulevards, 
as  is  the  case  with  the  Alcazar,  on  the  Faubourg 
Poissoniere,  whereat  Therese  has  won  her  wonderful  popu- 
larity by  singing  songs  that  just  keep  the  hearer  on  that 
narrow  line  between  amusement  at  the  audacity  and 
blasphemy  at  the  degradation — and  with  Bat-a-clan,  a  yet 
more  pronounced  rival.  The  Alcazar,  however  (and  it 
may  be  taken  as  the  sufficient  type  of  the  better  cafhs 
chantante)  is  migratory  and  becomes  the  Alcazar  d'  Ete  in 
summer — a  handsome  Moorish  building,  bordered  with 
flaming  lights  and  garden-surrounded,  a  little  below  the 
Rond  Point  of  the  Champs  Elysees,  where  in  the  auditorum 


SIDE-SHOWS.  239 

a  thousand  persons  may  sit  at  open-air  tables  and  pay  for 
their  admission  by  ordering  ices,  wines  or  flummery  at 
round  prices,  while  on  a  semi-circular  covered  stage  an 
array  of  French  beauty,  reasonably  decollete,  lines  the 
walls  as  a  background  to  the  alternate  one-and-another  of 
their  number  who  advances  to  the  front,  sings  and  acts, 
and  occasionally  dances,  so  vivaciously,  so  rollickingly,  so 
suggestively,  so  injuriously  (to  all  the  finer  moral  senses), 
but,  alas  !  so  very,  very  enjoyably  ! 

Ah,  that  atmosj)here  of  native  French  singing  and  danc- 
ing, at  Paris  and  in  the  less-eclectic  scenes  where  it  is 
under  least  restraint — let  a  word  of  humiliating  truth  be 
told  about  it.  The  dangerous  verge  of  wickedness  is 
pleasant,  even  to  those  most  sure  to  recoil  at  the  consum- 
mated evil;  there  are  plenty  of  others,  not  yet  declared, 
like  the  corrupted  lady  who  said,  taking  up  a  goblet  of 
pure,  sparkling  water  (the  most  appetizing  of  all  beverages, 
after  all,  and  in  spite  of  excise  blunders)  and  apostrophiz- 
ing it  before  touching  it  to  the  lip  :  "  Ah,  if  it  was  only 
wrong  to  drink  that,  now,  how  delicious  it  would  be !  " 
The  pleasant,  hazy,  intoxicating  atmosphere  of  the  verge  of 
lorette-clom,  the  more  dangerous  because  only  half  under- 
stood, is  that  in  which  Paris  wraps  limbs,  fans  cheeks  and 
captivates  senses ;  and — %oe  like  it :  like  it,  whether 
we  rush  deeper  into  it,  or  not ;  like  it,  whether  we  under- 
stand, or  not,  precisely  what  it  means.  Thousands  of  un- 
traveled  New  Yorkers  have  thrilled  not  a  little  while 
they  laughed,  at  some  of  Tostee's  singing,  in  the  "  Grand 
Duchesse,"  and  a  few  of  her  motions,  even  at  other  times 
than  when  she  was  breaking  into  that  bit  of  cancan, — 
without  being  at  all  aware  what  was  the  precise  thing  that 
captivated  their  senses.  Let  me  tell  them  what  it  has 
been — the  insensible  aroma  and  atmosphere  of  the  Parisian 
cafes  chantante,  the  close  approach  to  the  Parisian  lorette, 
the  bringing  over  to  New  York  Fourteenth  Street  of  some- 
11 


24:0  PARIS    IN   '67 

thing  Dot  far  removed  from  the  Parisian  Quartier  Breda. 
Prenez  garde,  messieurs  et  mesdames  ! — as  the  writer  has 
not  tlie  slightest  intention  of  doing,  any  more  than  he 
has  a  hope  that  his  explanation  will  he  taken  as  anything 
else  than  arrant  folly. 

The  great  gardens  of  Paris,  meanwhile,  overtop  even  the 
cafes  chantants  as  "  side-shows."  Asnieres,  a  few  miles 
from  Paris,  on  the  Versailles  and  St.  Cloud  railway,  is  the 
most  popular  of  the  suburban  gardens ;  and  there  is  no 
special  description  of  it  necessary,  for  when  trees,  flowers, 
lights,  music,  crowds  and  unrestrained  dancing  are  men- 
tioned, and  the  additional  suggestion  is  made  that  they  are 
all  in  perfection,  the  whole  fact  suggests  itself  to  those  who 
have  any  "  experience."  This  of  the  night :  by  day 
Asnieres  has  its  boat-races  on  the  Seine,  and  Hoboken  on 
regatta-day  will  give  some  faint  idea  of  them.  But  at 
nearer  Paris  than  Asnieres  lie  the  leading  attractions  in 
this  detail,  and  one  or  two  will  suffice  for  all  illustration. 
The  Moulin  Rouge  is  somewhat  sacred  to  scandalous 
suppers  of  both  sexes,  and  the  orgies  accompanying ;  most 
respectable  foreigners  know  nothing  of  it,  and  the  veil  may 
as  well  be  allowed  to  lie  as  close  as  it  will.  Let  us  look 
for  a  moment,  a  little  more  nearly  than  is  quite  ordinary, 
at  the  Jardin  Mabille,  which  may  be  taken  as  the  type  and 
crown  of  the  public  gardens  of  Paris,  having  much  of  their 
best  and  certainly  much  of  their  worst. 

Mabille,  as  readers  as  well  as  visitors  know,  lies  in  the 
farther-left  or  southwestern  corner  of  the  Champs  Elysees, 
only  a  stone's-throw  from  the  Avenue  at  the  Rond  Point, 
and  on  the  crossing  Avenue  Montaigne.  It  has  a  showily- 
lighted  entrance,  and  costs  a  pretty  penny  (for  a  mere 
garden)  on  entering.  Within,  description  fails  as  to  the 
wealth  of  trees  and  shrubbery — the  embowered  arbors 
that  suri'ound  the  great  central  space  in  the  midst  of  which 
stands  the  great  pavilion  for  the  orchestra — the  narrow, 


SIDE-SHOWS.  241 

winding,  sequestered  -walks  in  which  being  lost  (intention- 
ally or  otherwise)  is  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world,  two  in 
company  being  no  obstacle — the  grottoes  of  rock  arranged 
with  colored  lights,  representing  everything  imaginary, 
from  paradise  to  purgatory — the  great  circles  and  arches 
of  lights  surrounding  all  the  principal  entrances  and  exits, 
as  if  the  whole  was  a  building,  columned  and  arched  in 
jflame— the  multitude  of  flowers  in  colored  glass,  with  the 
flre-jets  within  making  something  magnificently  new 
and  almost  fearful  in  floriculture — the  seats  for  repose 
and  cafes  for  refreshment — everything  thac  can  possibly 
minister  to  eye  and  taste  and  conduce  to  the  temporary 
shutting  away  at  once  and  completely  of  the  outer  world. 
But  this,  shadow  as  it  is,  is  only  IMabille  as  a  bit  of  "  still- 
life  :"  it  is  everything  else  than  still-life,  commonly,  and 
especially  as  it  was  on  that  evening  of  the  great  summer 
fete  when  the  Captain,  Anna  Maria  and  the  Governor, 
OA^ercame  their  scruples  (the  last  named  most  particularly) 
and  went  to  "  do  "  it  at  leisure.  Half  Paris  was  there — 
Paris  in  the  demi-monde.,  Paris  in  the  heau-monde,  Paris 
in  the  grande  inonde,  not  much  of  Paris  in  the  monde 
com,m,une  (for  your  Parisian  o^ivrier  goes  seldom  into 
haunts  of  dissipation,  cheap  or  costly).  Students  and 
their  companion  grisettes,  in  large  number;  the  former 
looking  arrogant  and  careless,  and  the  latter,  seldom  hand- 
some, but  neat,  modest  and  wifely,  in  spite — poor  souls  ! — 
of  the  well-known  and  inevitable  future.  Lorettes,  of 
classes  far  below  Anonyma  and  Olympia,  (who  seldom 
move  without  the  carriage  and  state  of  princesses) — 
lorettes,  lavish  in  the  display  of  arm  and  bosom,  but  neat 
and  rarely  tawdry  in  dress,  and  with  that  indescribable 
something  of  grace  in  figure  and  carriage  which  goes  no 
little  way  to  redeem  what  would  else  be  all  abhorrent. 
"  Fast  men  of  Paris  " — types  of  a  class  from  which  other 
cities  are  not  quite  free,  and  for  whom  a  new  word  should 


242  FA  HIS    I  IT    '67. 

be  coined  io  the  dictionary  of  reprobation — faulilessly- 
moustachcd,  faultlessly-clothed,  hkn  gantee,  only  a  trifle 
too  much  bejeweled,  roue-eyed,  searching,  insolent — the 
very  serpents  of  the  human  kingdom,  at  once  the  most 
useless  and  the  most  injurious  of  God's  creation.  The 
more  Avorn  and  harmless  debauchees,  "with  late  hours, 
vinous  indulgence,  gambling  and  the  other  immoralities 
beginning  to  "  tell "  in  crows-feet  and  stiffened  lumbars. 
Young  men — mere  hoys,  in  any  well-regulated  society, 
capped,  switched  (not  as  they  should  have  been,  but  in 
hand)  and  jaunty,  taking  one  more  lesson  in  the  great 
school  of  attractive  vice.     Clergymen,  their  white  cravats 

hidden    under  very  unclerical  garments  (the   Rev.  

,  of  IsTew  York,  who  took  so  much  pains  to  avoid  me 


that  night,  need  not  flatter  himself  that  his  borrowed  pal- 
etot deceived  anybody,  or  that  I  shall  forget  the  little 
rencontre,  the  next  time  that  I  hear  him  preach  against 
"  the  demoralizing  theater,"  and  the  other  "  pomps  and 
vanities  of  this  sinful  world.")  Ladies  of  character  and 
condition — some  of  the  best  wives,  daughters  and  moth- 
ers in  France  or  elsewhere,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  husband 
or  fiance  (no  well-posted  woman  of  character  goes  to 
Mabille  without  being  unimpeachable  in  protection),  and 
looking  unharmed,  as  it  would  appear,  on  scenes  that  else- 
where would  have  covered  them  with  most  painful  confus- 
ion. These,  and  yet  lower  types  of  both  manhood  and 
womanhood,  for  some  of  whom  it  is  even  diflicult  to  find 
a  designating  name.  A  vast,  moving,  restless,  vivacious, 
incongruous  crowd,  such  as  could  not  very  well  be  found 
elsewhere  than  in  Paris,  and  scarcely  even  there  except  at 
Mabille  on  the  night  of  some  one  of  the  great  fetes.  A 
Btudy,  full  of  amusement,  and  yet  by  no  means  unmixed 
■with  melancholy,  and  with  reprobation  of  self  and  all  con- 
cerned ! 

"  I  tell  you  what.  Governor  !  "  remaikcd  the  Captain,  at 


SIDE-SHOWS.  243 

one  period,  when  the  "demonstrations"  as  well  as  the 
people  were  "  thickening  "  and  the  whirl  of  the  maelstrom 
becoming  more  evident  as  to  the  vortex  towards  which  it 
was  tending — "I  tell  you  what,  Governor  ! — are  you  quite 
sure  that  this  place  is  respectable,  for  decent  people  and 
especially  for  ladies  ?  "  (alluding  to  frightened  Anna  Maria, 
just  then  on  his  arm.)  "  Respectable  !"  echoed  the  Gov- 
ernor, "  respectable  ! — what  a  word  to  be  used  in  Paris ! 
Sit  down  on  this  seat  for  fifteen  minutes,  and  if  I  do  not 
show  you  ten  unimpeachable  celebrities,  five  French  or 
English  men  of  rank,  and  at  least  two  Americans  beyond 
doubt  as  to  standing — half  of  tliem  loith  their  u'ives  or 
other  ladies  in  the  time  sense  of  the  icord  accompanying — 
then  we  will  vote  that  the  place  is  not  respectable,  and 
leave  at  once!" 

The  Captain  and  Anna  Maria  took  their  seats,  and  within 
the  time  specified  they  were  shown  all  they  had  been  prom- 
ised, with  the  addition  that  the  male  Americans  were  five, 
four  of  them  accompanied  by  ladies,  and  two  of  them 
clergymen !  Even  strict  Anna  Maria  voted  the  afiair 
respectable,  then  (at  least  for  the  time)  and  we  stayed. 
Directly  came  into  view  Lawless,  of  the  Pennsylvania  coal 
regions  and  our  run-over  on  the  "  City  of  Paris  ;"  and  Law- 
less, in  our  very  sight,  fell  under  persecution  and  extricated 
himself  from  it  with  an  energy  worthy  of  Pittston.  Mile. 
Fifine,  of  the  Quartier  Breda,  attracted  by  Lawless's  dash- 
ing appearance,  laid  her  bien  gant^e  little  hand  on  the 
sleeve  of  his  coat,  and  reaching  up  whispered  a  few  words 
of  delicious  French  into  his  ear,  that  could  not  have  been 
anything  less  tender  than  an  invitation  to  a.  2^&tit^  soi/per  at 
the  Moulin  Rouge  or  elsewhere.  Many  men,  especially 
Americans,  have  fallen,  under  less  temptation — suri-endered 
to  Delilah  and  been  Sampson  no  longer.  Lawless  Avas 
equal  to  the  occasion  (perish  the  thought  that  it  was 
because  he  saw  acquaintances  so  near!) :  he,  who  spoke  six 


244  PARIS   IN   '67. 

languages  indifferently  well,  and  understood  a  dozen, 
straightened  himself  with  overwhelming  dignity,  and 
hurled  at  her,  with  a  face  as  blank  as  a  stone  wall :  "Nein 
sprachen  sie  Deustcher ! "  Mile.  Fifine  collapsed  and 
]-ecoiled.  I  think  that  she  may  well  have  done  so  when 
that  pass  had  been  reached  that  a  native  Parisian  woman, 
talking  her  own  original  tongue,  was  understood  to  be 
speaking  Dutch  ! 

But  the  dancing.  There  was  music  sounding  all  the 
while  from  a  full  orchestra  in  the  pavilion ;  and  dancing 
was  going  on  at  brief  intervals,  on  various  circles  of  the 
trodden  earth  at  different  distances  around  it.  But  who 
shall  describe  that  dancing,  especially  when  Mile.  Fifine, 
thus  rebuffed,  joined  three  others,  two  male  and  one  female, 
and  the  four  commenced  the  bewitching  cancan  in  a  cleared 
circle  of  several  yards,  surrounded  by  an  admiring  and 
applauding  crowd  !  Even  to  eyes  instructed  as  mine  had 
previously  been,  in  all  the  mysteries  of  the  terpsichorean 
art,  from  a  Jersey  break-down  and  an  Irish  jig,  to  the 
shuffle  of  the  Southern  darkey,  the  athletic  leaps  of  the 
ballet-dancers  and  the  fascinating  contortions  of  EUsler, 
Lamoureux  and  Cubas — even  in  those  of  the  cancan  itself 
as  danced  in  less  uproarious  days  than  the  present — even 
to  my  eyes  the  exhibition  was  somevs^hat  novel,  not  to  say 
startling.  Words  cannot  portray  the  cancan  in  full  flight, 
except  to  say  that  it  is  compounded  of  squat,  wriggle,  fling 
and  squirm — and  that  when  the  artiste  holds  all  her  long 
hooped-skirts  forward,  tight  en  arriere,  gi^'i^g  fi-^^l  P^^y  to 
the  limbs  in  a  forward  direction,  and  then  throws  both  feet 
full  in  the  face  of  the  nearest  spectator,  kicking  the  cigar  out 
of  his  mouth  if  he  chances  to  be  smoking,  and  suggesting 
that  she  is  trying  to  jump  out  of  her  clothes,  feet-foremost, 
the  effect  is  at  least  refreshing. 

Anna  Maria  gave  one  glance  at  the  crowning  perform- 
ance, then  whitened  with  fright,  looked  round  inquiiiugly 


SIDE-SHOWS.  245 

at  her  companions,  and  finally  narrowly  escaped  fainting. 
She  had  not  been  used  to  such  exhibitions,  poor  thing  ! 
she  had  not  yet  been  "  educated."  It  is  only  justice  to 
say,  however,  that  she  recovered,  and  "  improved  under 
tuition."  So  did  another  little  American  lady  of  our  "  City 
of  Paris  "  company,  who  saw  Mabille  a  few  days  later,  and 
afterward  had  occasion  to  comment  upon  the  perform- 
ance, in  one  of  the  rooms  of  the  Grand  Hotel.  Some 
American  friends  had  just  arrived,  and  one  of  the  ladies 
remarked  that  they  were  "going  to  Mabille  "  that  night. 
"  I  teU  you — don't  you  go  !"  sagely  suggested  the  accli- 
mated young  lady,  who  might  have  been  seventeen  and  in 
Paris  for  two  weeks.  "  Why  shouldn't  I  go  ?  you  have 
been,  and  what  is  there  that  you  can  see  and  I  cannot  ?" 
demanded  the  other.  To  which  the  only  reply  was  a  more 
emphatic  repetition  of  the  previous  warning :  "  I  tell  you 
— donH  you  goP''  "  Now,  I  will  know  what  you  mean  by 
that !"  said  the  other,  half  indignantly.  "  Why  shouldn't 
I  go,  I  should  like  to  know.  Miss  Experience  and  Moral- 
ity ?"  "  I  TELL  YOU — don't  YOU  GO  !"  replied  the  other, 
yet  more  emphatically — "  'cause,  if  you  do  go,  you  will 

WANT  TO  GO  AGAIN  !" 

But  the  more  pronounced  of  the  gayeties  of  Paris 
"  side-shows  "  must  have  the  go-by.  There  have  been 
others  of  partially  the  same  character,  only  less  appe- 
tizing. Evening  and  cafe  life  in  the  Champs  Elysees, 
under  the  trees,  amid  music  and  flowers,  and  in  the  midst 
of  half  a  gathered  world;  promenade  and  cafe  life  on  the 
Boulevards,  the  peculiarities  of  which  I  need  not  here 
repeat,  but  in  which  even  mere  distant  readers  know  that 
the  whole  sense  of  brilliant  variety  is  exhausted  ;  lounging 
and  cafe  life  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  in  which  even 
Timon  of  Athens,  if  he  remained  hermit,  would  have 
ceased  to  be  cynical ;  book-worm  and  observer  life  around 
the  Passage  de  I'Opera  and  the  other  old  "  Passages  "  that 


240  PARIS    IN   '67. 

stud  the  Boulevards — and  amid  the  innumerable  shops 
grouped  about  the  Palais  Royal,  Restaurant  life,  testing 
the  qualities  of  foods  ;md  wines,  and  the  probabilities  of 
indigestion,  from  Very's  and  the  Trois  Frores,  in  the 
Palais  Royal  to  Brebaut,  Tortoni's,  and  the  Maison  Doree 
on  the  Boulevards  ;  Yoisin's,  on  the  Rue  Faubourg  St. 
Ilonore,  and  Philippe's  on  the  Rue  Montorgeuil — paying 
roundly  at  each,  but  learning  all  the  while  something 
more  of  the  mysteries  of  French  cookery  and  French 
society  ;  varying  all  this,  too,  with  lounges  in  those  ex- 
changes of  Americanism,  the  cours  cVhonneur  of  the 
Grand  Hotel  and  the  Grand  Hotel  du  Louvre ;  dropping 
round  to  Meurice  and  the  Hotel  du  Bath,  or  Windsor, 
to  see  the  grand  arrivals,  and  possibly  pick  up  an 
acquaintance ;  or  going  over  to  England  suddenly 
and  cheaply,  by  just  spending  an  hour  with  Outhwaite 
at  tahle  iPhote  at  the  old  Byron's  Tavern  on  the  Rue 
Favart,  or  dropping  in  at  that  rival  resort  of  everything 
English  southward  of  the  channel,  Hill's,  on  the  Boule- 
vards. 

There  is  another  and  deeper  life  in  Paris,  albeit  one  of 
mere  sight-seeing  and  the  reflections  thereby  awakened.  I 
have  before  spoken  freely  of  it  in  another  connection,  and 
need  only  recall  it  here  in  a  glimpse.  To  visit  the  churches 
of  Paris — to  stand  amid  the  architectural  glories  of  the 
Madeleine,  and  Notre  Dame,  and  the  Pantheon,  and  the 
human  and  architectural  glories  shrouded  under  the  great 
dome  of  the  Invalides ;  to  hear  the  human  blackbirds  cry 
at  'change-hour  Avithin  that  greatest  of  all  exchanges,  the 
Bourse  ;  to  see  what  Frenchmen  sell  and  Frenchmen  eat, 
in  the  Halles  Centrales  and  the  other  odd,  queer,  but 
interesting  old  markets  of  Paris ;  to  stand  within  the 
Morgue  and  freeze  over  an  interesting  collection  of  sui- 
cides and  other  unfortunates  ;  to  muse  beside  the  Concier- 
gerie,  the  spot  where  stood  the  guillotine  in  the  Place  de 


SIDE-SHOWS.  247 

la  Concorde,  and  that  other  and  better-fed  monster  in  the 
Place  de  Greve ;  to  "wander  through  the  wonderful  art- 
collections  of  the  Louvre,  and  the  equally  wonderful  art 
aud  curiosity  collections  of  the  Luxembourg  Palace  and 
the  Hotel  Cluny ;  to  pace  beside  the  Seine,  remember  its 
world-long  history,  and.  smile  at  its  insignificance ;  to  ven- 
ture into  the  Faubourg  St.  Antoine,  drink  in  its  wine- 
shops, make  acquaintance  with  its  bloused  and  bare-armed 
men  and  women,  and  stand  beside  the  doubly-instructive 
Column  of  July  in  the  Place  de  la  Bastille  ;  to  hear  the 
choral  service  in  Xotre  Dame,  remembering  Napoleon's 
crowning  the  while,  and  that  still  finer  in  St.  Roch,  with 
half  a  fancy  that  the  thunders  of  the  Revolution  are  yet 
bursting  overhead — these  have  been  some  of  the  "  side- 
shows "  of  Paris,  during  the  summer  of  '67,  not  much 
easier  forgotten  than  the  central  event  which  attracted, 
visitors  in  such  numbers. 

And  have  these  been  all  ?  No,  nor  the  half.  Versailles, 
with  its  palace,  pictures  and  park  ;  St.  Germain,  with  its 
memories  of  a  discrowned  English  king  and  its  shut-up 
palace  that  is  to  be  another  imperial  museum  ;  St.  Cloud, 
with  its  glorious  situation  on  the  Seine,  and  its  yet-more- 
glorious  old  forest ;  Vinceanes,  with  its  old  tower,  forest, 
rifle-firing,  and  historical  recollections  of  Harry  of  Mon- 
mouth (emphatically  not  the  Governor) ;  St.  Denis,  with 
its  tombs  of  the  kings  and  memories  how  troubled  is 
sometimes  the  sleep  of  kings,  even  in  death ;  Pere  la 
Chaise,  with  its  ugliness,  hundreds  of  great  dead,  and 
Abelard  and  HMoise — all  these  have  been  "  side-shows," 
too — oh,  how  glorious,  instructive  and  long  to  be  remem- 
bered, to  those  who  broke  away  long  enough  from  the 
inner  gayeties  of  the  great  capital,  and  took  time,  trouble 
and  thought  to  see  them  properly  ! 

One  more  word,  and  the  last — a  word  of  a  "  side-show," 
of  which  not  too  many  Americans  are  advised,  and  one 
11* 


248  PARIS    IIT   '6  7. 

that  perhaps  wouid  not  have  been  discovered  by  any  one 
without  a  remaining  "mercantile  recollection." 

I  found  myself  one  day  in  the  Rue  de  Bac,  a  commer- 
cial street  of"  importance  lying  on  the  south  side  of  the 
Seine,  and  not  very  far  below  the  Exposition,  I  stopped  a 
gentleman  with  a  request  for  a  light  for  my  cigar,  in  V^ad 
French,  and  he  answered  me  in  English.  I  looked  at  him  a 
second  time,  and  recognized  him,  as  he  had  before  recogniz- 
ed me, — M ,  a  well-known  Franco- American  who  used  to 

supply  one  of  the  most  fashionable  clientelles  of  supper-eaters 
and  fancy-articles-buyers,  on  our  own  Broadway.  "  What 
are  you  doing  here  ? — visiting  the  Exposition  ?"  "  Yes — 
and  you  ?"  "  Oh,  I  am  in  business  here — see  !"  I  saw  a 
large  old  house  that  had  been  made  marvelously  larger  by 
filling  and  management;  and  I  saw  that  it  was  called,  or 
rather  dedicated  :  "  Au  Bon  Marche  "  (literally  "  to  good 
bai'gains  "),  that  its  double  fronts  were  on  the  Rue  de  Bac 
and  the  Rue  de  Sevres  ;  and  there  was  something  about  it 
which  immediately  suggested,  first,  that  the  "  Beehive  " 
would  have  been  a  good  name  for  it,  and  second,  that  it 
must  fill  something  of  the  same  place,  to  Parisians  and 
many  Americans,  supi^Iied  here  by  the  indispensable  Lord 
and  Taylor's,  without  which  particular  triple -barreled  mag- 
azine of  everything  that  everybody  wants,  I  doubt  whether 
New  York  would  amount  to  much,  after  all !    Whereupon, 

and  before  proceeding  further,  I  astonished  M a  little 

and  hindered  him  a  trifle,  by  falling  into  a  brown  study 
over  the  magnificent  wilderness  of  articles  kept  in  such 
places  as  that  same  New  York  Lord  and  Taylor's — think- 
ing what  executive  ability  it  must  need  to  keep  from 
going  insane  in  the  attempt  to  manage  one  of  them — and 
wondering  whether  people  always  realize  the  convenience 
of  first-class  houses  that  sell  everything  one  wants  and 
everything  reliably. 

I  accompanied  M into   the  "  Bon  March^,"  was 


SIDE-SHOWS.  219 

shown  through  it,  so  far  as  could  be  with  five  hundred 
clerks  and  two  thousand  buyers  in  my  way.  Oddly 
enough,  I  found  many  of  the  buyers  Americans,  and  that 
everybody  else  knew  more  of  the  place  than  L  What  did 
I  find  there  ? — ask  me  rather  what  I  did  not  find  there — 
I,  and  practical  (because  moneyed)  Anna  Maria,  who  fol- 
lowed me  thither.  There  is  a  wide  sco]3e  in  the  words 
"  dry-goods "  and  "  fancy-goods  " — fill  them  up  all  the 
way,  from  silken  cobwebs  to  burlaps,  from  shawls  to  san- 
dal-wood fans,  and  some  faint  idea  may  be  formed  of  the 
fullest,  busiest,  best  regulated  mercantile  establishment 
that  I  ever  saw — the  odder,  because  I  have  since  heard 
that  it  is  the  only  really-well-regulated  establishment  in  all 
Paris.  But  if  I  had  been  astonished  in  that  magazine  of 
approachable  fineries,  what  was  I  in  the  stables  !  There 
is  an  old  rhyme  about 

"  Forty  horses  in  the  stable,"  &c. 

and  there  I  saw  them,  all  groomed  as  so  many  race-horses 
might  have  been,  with  carriages  and  harness  spotless  as 
ever  Victoria's  went  out  from  Windsor  for  a  drive  tOAvards 
Frogmore,  and  all  devoted  to  the  conveyance  of  goods 
from  the  Bon  Marche.  Really  a  wonder,  all  this,  in  the 
way  of  mercantile  enterprise,  neatness,  and  general  arrange- 
ment, with  the  evidences  of  a  popularity  quite  as  great  as 
either.  So  I  said  that  day,  and  so  I  repeat — that  the  Boa 
Marche,  if  among  the  last,  is  not  among  the  least,  of  the 
"  side-shows  of  Paris,"  and  not  among  the  least-profita- 
bly-interesting to  Americans. 

Here,  bidding  at  last  a  regretful  farewell  to  Paris  as  well 
as  the  Exposition,  we  pass  to  the  few  and  brief  excursions 
made  possible  by  the  visit — some  preceding  and  others  fol- 
lowing the  sojourns  in  the  gay  capital. 


XXI. 

ENGLISH   LAKE   GLIMPSES. 

Practical  suggestions  generally  come  from  practical 
men  ;  but  they  do  not  always  ignore  the  beautiful  or  the 
sentimental.  Such,  at  least,  I  found  to  be  the  case  with  Mr. 
George  H.  W ,  head  of  one  of  the  largest  commer- 
cial and  banking  houses  in  Liverpool,  or  indeed  in  Eng- 
land, who  had  been  running  through  the  Southern  portion 
of  the  United  States,  "  taking  stock,"  as  I  believe,  of  all 
the  cotton  likely  to  go  upon  the  market,  and  who  added 
no  small  amount  to  the  pleasure  of  our  June  voyage  east- 
ward on  the  "  City  of  Paris."  Running  across  the  Irish 
channel  towards  Holyhead,  on  that  last  evening  of  our 
voyage,  and  speaking  of  bending  directly  from  Liverpool 
to  London  and  Paris,  it  was  a  very  happy  suggestion  that 
he  made.  "  Why  do  you  not  go  to  the  Cumberland  Lakes, 
if  you  have  never  been  there — now  while  you  are  so  con- 
veniently near  them,  at  Liverpool?"  Why  not? — there 
was  no  "  wh)'  not :"  the  only  thing  was  that  without  the 
suggestion  that  pilgrimage  might  again  have  been  "  defer- 
red," like  many  another  thing  laid  over  until  unattainable. 

Mr.  W 's  hint  bore  speedier  fruit  than  such  things 

often  bear.  At  Liverpool  in  the  gray  of  the  morning,  and 
landed  at  nine — on  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  we  were 
speeding  away — the  Captain,  Anna  Maria,  and  the  Governor 
— by  the  upper  branch  of  the  London  and  Northwest- 
ern, for  the  very  few  hours  that  could  be  spared  at  Win- 


EFGLISE    LAKE    GLIMPSES.         251 

dermere  and  its  pendant  lakes.  Once  more  through  and 
among  the  hedged  fields  and  "  green  lanes  of  Merrie  Eng- 
land," in  the  glory  of  leafy  and  flowery  June,  with  the 
Captain  (an  American  agriculturist  of  no  mean  exjjeri- 
ence)  radiant  with  pleasure  at  his  first  glimpses  of  English 
rural  scenery  and  English  farming  thrift;  and  with  Anna 
Maria,  not  much  instructed  in  the  products  of  the  earth, 
beyond  those  displayed  at  Central  Park  and  in  the  mar- 
kets, clapping  hands  like  a  school-girl  at  sudden  glimpses 
of  hedged  road  and  cozy  valley  and  coy  little  river,  and 
sometimes  audibly  wishing  that  Simpson,  evidently  the  ob- 
ject of  an  absorbing  affection,  could  only  be  there  to  enjoy 
the  ride  with  her.  (Not  very  flattering,  this  latter,  to 
either  the  Captain  or  the  Governor,  both  of  whom  had  au 
idea  that  they  were  not  to  be  undervalued  as  fellow-travel- 
ers ;  but  I  may  as  well  say,  here,  that  later  in  their  pro- 
gress tliey  learned  to  bear  the  frequent  recall  of  Simpson's 
name  with  equanimity,  and  to  be  as  little  jealous  as  was 
consistent  with  the  habitual  ignoring  of  two  present  men 
for  one  absent.) 

Geographically,  some  of  the  readers  of  this  chronicle 
may  need  to  be  told  that  Windemrere  in  about  one  hun- 
dred miles  north  and  a  little  west  of  Liverpool,  over  South 
and  Xorth  Lancashire  and  a  part  of  Cumberland,  on  the 
borders  of  Westmoreland ;  and,  practically,  that  it  is 
reached  by  the  London  and  Xorth western  Railway  from 
Liverpool,  to  Oxenholme  on  the  Carlisle  branch  of  that 
road,  and  then  by  the  Kendal  and  Windermere  spur  to 
Windermere,  much  of  the  transit  being  made  through  some 
of  the  loveliest  rural  scenery  of  the  West  of  England, 
with  varying  glimpses  of  the  thousand  furnace-chimneys, 
smoke  and  grime,  of  Preston,  W^igan,  Lancaster,  and  other 
towns  where  they  weave  coarse  cloths,  "  depot  "  coal,  and 
smelt  iron.  Amid  all  this  smoke  and  grime  of  the  towns, 
meanwhile,  there  is  much  of  beauty  ;  and  I  have  yet  to  see 


252  PARIS    IN    '67. 

a  lovelier  little  bit  of  pleasure-ground  of  its  size  than  that 
which  girds  the  little  river  by  Preston,  in  Lancashire,— 
a  fact  which  may  or  may  not  prove  that  the  weavers  of 
that  bustling  old  town  weave  fancies  as  well  as  linens. 

A  delicious  ride,  and  yet  a  wearily  long  one,  simply  be- 
cause we  had  been  led  to  suppose  it  so  much  shorter.  The 
country  roughened,  from  the  Genesee  Valley  Midland-Eng- 
land semblance,  to  the  likeness  of  New  England,  with  a 
dash  of  Western  New  York,  as  we  rolled  on  northward — 
still  no  prospect  of  our  goal;  and. we  certainly  should 
have  made  a  night-ride  of  what  had  promised  to  be  only 
an  afternoon  and  early-evening  excursion — but  for  a  little 
habit  which  the  sim  seems  to  have  contracted  in  that  lati- 
tude, of  never  setting  !  Perhaps  I  may  be  hasty  in  saying 
"never" — "almost  never"  would  possibly  be  a  better 
phrase  ;  all  that  I  know  positively,  on  the  subject,  is  that 
after  various  dodgings  about  among  and  pretending  to  set 
behind  sundry  hills  rising  and  disappearing  in  the  West, 
we  finally  lost  sight  of  the  old  fellow,  in  good  condition 
and  not  a  whit  sleepy-looking,  in  the  warm  mists  of  the 
Cumberland  hills,  at  precisely  9.30  p.  m.  !— a  pretty  time 
for  sunset,  to  an  eye  educated  anywhere  south  of  Labra- 
dor !  That  it  probably  did  not  set  at  all,  but  merely  hung 
in  wait,  up  in  the  air,  for  next  day,  seems  evidenced  by 
the  fact  that  we  read  ordinary  print,  that  night,  if  night  it 
was,  in  front  of  the  Windermere  Hotel,  at  11.30  ;  that  the 
Captain  found  daylight-at-night  so  abnormal  that  he  fell 
into  the  habit  of  sleeping  in  the  day-time  instead,  as  the 
duskier  of  the  two  periods  ;  and  that  Anna  Maria  had  light 
enough  for  a  surreptitious  peep  into  the  looking-glass  in 
her  chamber,  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning ! 

Once,  before  the  ride  was  completed,  the  vivacious  little 
lady  astonished  geography  and  the  Governor  by  discover- 
ing Windermere  under  unexpected  circumstances.  The 
upper  end  of  the  road  bears  very  near  the  Irish  Channel  at 


ENGLISH    LAKE    GLIMPSES.         263 

certain  points ;  and  wlien  Duddon  Sands  came  into  view, 
with  their  twenty  or  thirty  miles  of  shoal  water,  a  dozen  in 
breadth,  dotted  with  sail-vessels  creeping  lazily  away  to- 
ward Duddon  Month  and  the  Channel — then  there  was 
the  blended  feeling  of  a  tired  woman  in  the  exclamation  : 
"  There  is  your  "Windermere,  now,  and  glad  enough  I  am 
to  see  it ;  but,  good  gracious  ! — where  are  the  mountains 
they  talked  about  ? — and  who  thought  that  it  had  schoon- 
ers on  it  and  emptied  into  the  ocean  ?" 

Shall  I  not  tell,  too,  of  a  lesson  in  orthography  which 
was  at  nearly  the  same  time  set  by  the  same  authority  for 
the  youth  of  all  England.  I  have  ah'eady  said  that  the 
Kendal  and  Windermere  spur  of  the  L.  &  N.  W.  takes 
the  Lake  passengers  at  Oxenholme  on  the  Carlisle  branch ; 
but  it  is  painfully  doubtful  whether  even  the  scholars  at 
the  junction  know  how  to  spell  the  name  of  their  town. 
They  shall  know  hereafter,  thanks  to  the  educational 
institutions  of  New  York.  "  What  place  is  this  ?"  asked 
the  Captain,  as  the  train  stopped  to  make  the  transfer. 
"Oxenholme,"  replied  Anna  Maria,  who  chanced  to  be 
looking  out  of  the  window,  and  saw  the  station-sign. 
"  Oxen-what  ?  how  do  they  spell  it  ?"  again  asked  the 
Captain.  "  Why,  easily  enough — with  a  '  ho,'  and  a 
'  hex,'  and  a  '  he,'  and  a  '  hen,'  and  a  '  haitch,'  and  another 
'  ho,'  and  a  '  hel,'  and  a  '  hem,'  and  a  '  he,'  "  was  the  satis- 
factory rejoinder  of  the  lady,  who  certainly  deserved  to 
"  go  up  head  "  in  her  class. 

At  last,  in  spite  of  the  atrocities  of  both  sun  and 
daughter,  the  moimtains  of  Cumberland  coinsented  to  lift 
themselves  in  the  West,  a  shapely  range  of  blue  hills, 
with  height  and  distant  outlines  something  like  those  of 
the  lower  Catskills;  anon  a  gleam  of  silver  lay  among 
them,  clear,  calm,  and  beautiful,  under  the  last  western 
glow,  and  this  was  Windermere  indeed.  Half  an  hour 
later  we  had  disembarked  at  the  little  station  which  seema 


254:  PARIS   IN   '67. 

so  out  of  place  amid  such  peaceful  antique  rurality,  and 
■were  quietly  eating  our  supper  of  lake-trout  and  berries  in 
a  charming  little  dining-room  of  the  Windermere  Hotel, 
with  the  finest  of  out-looks  over  that  loveliest  of  little 
band-box  lakes  lying  liquid  silver  under  that  wonderful 
boreal  evening-light,  and  the  bold  rugged  mountains  west- 
ward toward  Helvellyn  and  Skiddaw  forming  a  magnifi- 
cent background  to  the  vision.  And  then  I  realized  that 
the  beauty  of  even  a  favorite  tourist-resort  may  be  under- 
rated as  well  as  the  opposite — that  Windermere  is  really 
one  of  the  very  gems  on  the  fair  bosom  of  nature. 

To  no  spot  of  the  world's  surface,  perhaps,  has  human 
genius  paid  more  abiding  tribute,  in  residence  and  remark, 
than  the  region  about  the  lakes  of  Cumberland.  Kit 
North,  Dr.  Arnold,  Wordsworth,  Coleridge,  Mrs.  Hemans, 
Martineau — how  their  names  come  up  at  the  mention  of 
Windermere,  Rydal,  Ambleside,  and  Grasmere !  And 
how  we  realized  something  of  the  sadness  of  genius  de- 
parted, as  well  as  the  glory  of  its  presence,  wandering 
through  the  melancholy  shades  of  the  plantation,  imme- 
diately in  the  rear  of  our  hotel,  on  the  hill  rising  behind 
it — where  stands  the  plain  stone  dwelling  in  which  Profes- 
sor Wilson  spent  many  of  the  latter  years  of  his  life ; 
quiet  and  beautiful  yet,  but  missing  his  broad,  genial  face, 
and  in  the  hands  of  strangers ! 

But  the  next  day — all  that  our  haste  could  afibrd  to  the 
whole  pilgrimage — that  next  day,  the  night  of  which  must 
see  us  again  within  sight  of  St.  George's  Hall  at  Liver- 
pool— how  much  of  beauty  and  sensation  had  that  next 
day  hidden  away  among  its  few  hours  ?  For  had  we  not 
one  of  Rigg's  berquinets,  with  a  genial,  broad-spoken 
Cumberland  driver,  to  make  the  usual  round  of  hasty 
travelei's,  of  that  heart-of-England's  loveliness,  sanctified 
by  the  presence  of  so  much  of  her  talent  ?  And  were  we 
not  a  little  dizzied,  as  a  result,  with  so  much  of  natural 


ENGLISH    LAKE    GLIMPSES.         255 

beauty  and  not  a  little  man-worship,  all  compressed  into 
so  brief  a  space,  till  the  whole  thing  seemed  like  a  pleas- 
ant dream  from  which  it  was  the  shame  of  shames  to  be 
awakened  ? 

Oh,  how  lovely  was  that  drive  up  the  east  side  of 
Windermere,  on  its  very  banks  !  with  the  weather  perfec- 
tion; the  atmosphere  a  blending  of  sunshine  and  soft 
golden  mist ;  the  calm  water  dotted  here  and  there  with 
row-boats  and  sail-boats,  filled  with  pleasure-seekers; 
coaches  for  and  from  Keswick,  and  light  open  carriages 
bearing  more  exigeant  tourists,  darting  along  the  dustless, 
scarless  pikes  of  concrete,  through  the  winding,  stone- 
walled and  hedged  lanes;  with  old,  ivy-grown,  white- 
walled  stone  cottages,  lattice-windowed,  shade-hidden  and 
flower-enameled,  peeping  everywhere ;  with  Wray  Castle 
lifting  its  tuiTreted  pinnacles  on  the  opposite  shore;  with 
the  Head  of  Coniston  bounding  the  view  westward,  and 
the  craggy  peaks  of  Wandsfell  and  Lanfell  Pikes  barring 
the  prospect  far  ahead ;  and  all  the  peculiarities  of  the 
most  beautiful  of  days  in  the  most  charming  of  lake- 
countries. 

Then  came  Lowood  Hotel,  to  the  right,  on  the  very 
shore  of  the  lake;  a;d,  just  beyond  it,  across  a  field, 
and  bowered  in  trees,  peeped  out  Dove's  Nest,  a 
quiet  gabled  house,  where  Felicia  Hemans  wrote  many 
of  her  last  poems  and  went  to  the  reward  of  a  blame- 
less life.  Then,  a  little  beyond,  came  Wandsfell  House, 
with  its  manorial  bearing  and  many  Elizabethan  gables  ; 
and  directly  broke  out  Ambleside  Water-Head,  again 
on  the  shore  of  tbe  lake,  its  beach  crowded  with 
dainty  row-boats,  its  cottages  antique,  shaded  and  com- 
fortable-looking ;  the  round,  extinguisher-sbaped,  pointed 
tower  of  its  church  showing  over  the  village  proper, 
foither  to  the  right.  The  very  name  seemed  to  breathe 
of  Wordsworth,  Coleridge,  and  rhyme    stii'ring  only  the 


256  PARIS   I2T   '67. 

quieter  emotions.  Yet  a  moment  later,  and,  still  to 
the  right,  the  Vale  of  Rydal  opened,  with  its  still 
stronger  reminder  of  the  former  poet,  Fairfield  Peak 
bounding  the  view  ahead,  and  half  way  up  the  hill  which 
swelled  eastward  from  the  little  singing  burn  (river) 
Wrothoy,  a  somewhat  pretentious,  starch ed-looking  man- 
sion, bearing  the  name  of  the  Knowe,  and  now  and  for 
many  years  the  residence  of  Miss  Harriet  Martineau,  the 
smart  old  spinster,  who,  after  becoming  world-celebrated, 
has  finally  settled  down  to  be  the  guide-book-maker  of  the 
Lake  District. 

We  were  rapidly  ascending,  then,  toward  the  top  of 
lied  Bank,  over  Grasmere,  with  Brathow  Water  and  the 
little  church  of  the  same  name,  both  quiet  and  beau- 
tiful, away  in  the  valley  to  the  left ;  with  Loth  Peak  lift- 
ing its  rugged  brow  to  the  right ;  with  Skelworth  hamlet 
sleeping  like  a  flock  of  sheep  at  the  foot  of  the  hills  still 
beyond ;  a  rustic  gate,  with  a  wood-and-iron-shod  little 
girl  to  open  it ;  an  old  woman  going  by  in  a  basket-phae- 
ton, drawn  by  a  j)ony  not  much  larger  than  an  ordinary 
Newfoundland  dog ;  a  Keswick  coach  dashing  by,  with 
its  "V.  E."  and  crown,  horses  three  abreast,  and  all  the 
passengers  outside ;  and — 

Stop !  for  that  was  what  we  did,  precisely.  There  were 
such  splendid  climbing  roses  all  over  the  doorway  of  the 
white-walled  Westmoreland  cottage  we  were  just  passing, 
and  Anna  Maria  (who  ought  never  to  be  allowed  to  plead 
for  anything — ask  Simpson  !)  Anna  Maria  wanted  a  rose. 
So  the  Governor  overcame  his  natural  modesty,  invaded 
the  sanctity  of  the  cottage,  unearthed  the  gray-haired  and 
wooden-clogged  old  Westmorelandman,  with  his  broad, 
west-country  patois,  aud  genuine  heartiness, — robbed  his 
rose-bushes,  gave  him  a  shilling  (which  probably  belonged 
to  some  one  else),  shook  hands  with  him,  blarneyed  him, 
and  generally  conducted  himself  with  such  impropriety 


ENGLISH    LAKE    GLIMPSES.         257 

that  Westmoreland  will  surely  be  ashamed  of  the  recol- 
lection, indefinitely.  But  we  had  the  roses,  and  some  of 
them  may  have  been  in  America  before  they  had  withered 
entirely — who  knows.  And  Anna  Maria  was  delighted  ; 
and  the  Captain  was  thinking,  though  he  was  too  modest 
to  say  so,  of  his  own  lawn  and  gardens  at  home  ;  and  we 
bowled  along  up  Red  Bank — oh,  so  merrily  ! — aching 
though  some  of  the  hearts  in  the  little  berquinct  may  have 
been,  for  yet  dearer  eyes  to  look  upon  scenery  so  new  and 
so  excitingly  unreal  to  a  gazer  from  beyond  the  Atlantic. 

A  little  further,  and  Loughrig  Tarn  lay  bosomed 
between  the  hills  to  the  right — a  perfect  little  sheet  of 
glassy  water,  on  which  the  wind  seemed  never  to  have 
raised  a  ripple  since  the  morning  of  creation  ;  while  above 
it,  near  the  top  of  Red  Bank,  the  mansion  of  High  Close, 
many-gabled  and  one  of  the  most  commanding  in  the 
section,  spoke  of  costly  luxury  in  the  midst  of  rui*al  sim- 
plicity. Peaks  seemed  all  around  us,  here,  all  more  or  less 
rugged,  all  bare  of  fohage,  except  at  their  bases,  but  all 
swathed  in  green  verdure,  except  where  the  crags  broke 
through  and  threw  in  a  shade  of  relieving  gray.  Nowhere 
— scarcely  even  in  those  tw^o  twilight  boxes,  the  Profile 
House  plateau  at  the  New  Hampshire  Franconia,  and  the 
Kittatinny  at  the  Delaware  Water-Gap — is  there  a  spot 
apparently  so  shut  in  from  the  world.  And  then  a  little 
additional  rise,  and  there  came  the  first  peep  up  the  Vale 
of  Langdale,  beyond  comparison,  thus  far,  the  finest  group- 
ing of  rugged  mountain-peaks  behind  and  among  each 
other,  tliat  had  ever  fallen  under  my  mountain-loving  eye  ; 
while  the  golden-misted  morning  light  seemed  to  fill  every 
depression  with  radiance,  and  to  bring  the  softest  possible 
relief  to  each  summit  duskily  supporting  and  foiling  the 
other.  "  One  of  the  very  finest  mountain  glimpses  in  aU 
memory,  in  any  land !"  I  said,  as  we  reined  for  a  moment 
at  the  precise  spot  for  fixing  the  view  in  memory ;  and  yet 


258  PARIS    IN    '6  7. 

within  five  minutes  I  had  forgotten  nearly  every  feature 
of  the  Vale  of  Langdale,  for  that  five  minutes  brought  us 
to  the  top  and  the  steep  eastern  descent  of  Red  Bank,  and 
opened  to  us  the  view  over  Grasmere. 

Perhaps  I  have  already  demonstrated  my  right  to  be 
called  a  silly  enthusiast  in  scenery  ;  and,  after  exhausting 
nearly  all  the  adjectives  in  the  language,  it  is  not  very  easy 
to  find  new  ones  for  every  new  delight.  But  certainly  I 
must  take  the  risk  of  saying  that  Grasraere,  that  morning, 
was  the  loveliest  rural  vale  I  ever  saw — no  feature  waut- 
ing,  and  every  detail  perfect  for  the  creation  of  an  earthly 
paradise,  not  even  genius  lacking  to  complete  the  wondrous 
combination.  At  our  feet,  eastward,  slept  the  little  lake, 
Grasmere  itself,  perhaps  a  mile  or  two  in  length  and  half  a 
mile  in  width,  only  a  shade  less  quiet  and  unrippled  than 
Loughrig  Tarn — in  its  centre  a  little  island  of  one  or  two 
hundred  feet  in  cii'cumference,  with  a  group  of  tall,  straight- 
boled  trees  at  the  nearer  end,  the  very  ideal  for  a  goal  for 
lovers'  rowing  on  moonlight  nights  (and  where  the  driver 
took  pride  in  informing  us  that  His  Royal  Highness  the 
Prince  of  Wales  once  performed  the  sportsmanlike  feat  of 
chasing  a  black  sheep  to  cover  !)  Beyond  the  lake,  almost 
at  the  shore,  the  sweet  little  hamlet  of  Grasmere,  its 
white-walled  and  ivy-wreathed  cottages  lovingly  kissed  by 
the  warming  simlight,  and,  in  the  midst,  little  old  Grasmere 
church,  thrusting  up  its  square  tower,  and  giving  a  sad 
reminder  that  in  it  Wordsworth  had  worshiped,  and  that 
its  shadows  then  fell  upon  his  grave.  Yet  beyond  the  great 
hills  rose,  looming  darkly,  as  if  frowning  away  intruders 
from  so  sweet  a  scene,  farthest  of  all  the  broad  shoulders 
and  curved  brow  of  Helvellyn,  third  of  the  English  moun- 
tain giants,  shutting  away  Skiddaw  and  Scawfell,  and 
making  them  yet  a  reserve  for  a  second  pilgrimage  ;  while 
round  to  the  east  and  southeast  swept  away  the  thin 
silver  line  of  Rydal  Water,  by  which  we  were  so  soon  to 


EKGLTSH    LAKE    GLIMPSES.         259 

pass  near  the  old  home  of  Wordsworth,  and  on  our  back- 
ward ride  to  Windermere. 

A  quiet,  lovely,  irreproachable  rural  and  sylvan  scene, 
which  may  well  have  made  the  Bard  of  Rydal  even  more 
low-toned  and  contemplative  than  he  would  otherwise 
have  been — which  will  linger  in  memory  as  a  culmination 
of  all  that  is  finishedly-beautiful  in  nature,  with  no  feature 
wanting  and  none  obtruded— but  one  of  which,  of  course, 
I  have  failed  to  give  any  idea,  simply  because  I  have  been 
60  anxious  to  enable  some  of  my  dear  absentee  friends  to 
view  it  through  my  temporarily-luckier  eyes. 

But  it  may  be  believed  that  the  feeling  of  sacred  beauty 
did  not  wear  away  when,  half  an  hour  later,  descending 
the  vale,  we  stood  beside  the  old  church  of  Grasmere,  a 
few  hundreds  of  feet  from  the  lake  and  in  the  very  centre 
of  the  quiet  picture — beside  the  old  church  and  the  grave 
of  the  man  who  has  done  more  than  all  others  to  make  the 
Lake  Country  a  pilgrimage.  I  say  "  old,"  of  the  church, 
advisedly ;  for  though  modern  hands  have  repaired  it,  the 
queer,  double  arch  of  whitewashed  rough  stones,  running 
up  in  the  centre  and  supporting  the  peak,  is  undeniably 
of  days  before  the  Conquest,  and  tells  of  the  uncouth 
chisel  of  the  Saxon.  Around  the  rough,  bare  walls  and  on 
the  lower  section  of  the  central  arch  hang  the  painted 
escutcheons  of  some  of  the  gentry  families  of  the  neighbor- 
hood ;  but  the  attention  of  the  visitor  is  mainly  concen- 
trated upon  two  or  three  objects  that  have  nothing  to  do 
with  any  other  distinction  than  that  of  the  brain  and  the 
soul.  The  first  of  these  is  a  very  old  stone  font,  near  the 
upper  or  western  end  of  the  church,  now  crumbling  with 
age,  and  from  which  all  the  members  of  the  Wordsworth 
family  are  said  to  have  been  baptised  ;  and  the  next,  and 
yet  more  important,  is  one  of  the  square,  high-backed  pews, 
near  the  chancel,  and  yet  conveniently  within  sound  of  the 
voice   in   the   pepper-box   pulpit — the   pew   bearing   the 


260  PARIS    IN    '6  7. 

inscription  on  the  door-plate:  "  Rydal  Mount,  13,"  and 
that  in  which  William  Wordsworth  sat  in  the  corner  and 
listened  for  so  many  years  to  the  Word  of  Life.  I  do  not 
know  that  I  am  any  the  better  or  richer  for  the  act,  but  I 
certainly  followed  the  example  of  Anna  Maria  and  the 
Captain,  and  sat  down  in  the  old  man's  seat  and  thought 
how  necessary  it  was  to  be  good  as  well  as  notable.,  if  one 
would  leave  behind  an  aroma  pleasant  to  the  senses  of 
future  generations.  I  stood  for  a  moment  in  the  old  pulpit, 
too,  and  read  aloud  a  few  words  to  which  the  heaA^y  Bible 
opened  with  singular  appropriateness  :  "  Blessed  are  the 
dead  who  die  in  the  Lord  ;  *  *  for  they  rest  from  their 
labors,  and  their  works  do  follow  them ;"  but  I  seemed  to 
hear  a  reproachful  voice  from  the  empty  pew,  that  unhal- 
lowed lips  were  speaking  in  a  sacred  place,  and  so  desisted 
with  but  the  single  sentence. 

There  is  a  bust  of  the  poet  in  bas-relief,  inside  the  church 
and  near  the  door,  showing  a  placid  and  rather  weak-look- 
ing bald  head  and  long  face,  in  advanced  age ;  but  his 
grave  is  without,  in  the  rear  of  the  church  and  near  the 
southeastern  corner  of  the  church-yard,  shaded  by  one  of 
the  delicate-leaved  tropical  trees  (I  do  not  know  the  name) 
in  which  he  so  delighted ;  while  over  the  grave  runs  a 
beautiful  little  flowering  vine,  in  the  bringing  away  of  a 
sprig  of  which  I  hope  that  I  did  not  commit  any  desecra- 
tion. The  poet  does  not  sleep  alone  ;  for  on  the  same 
modest,  low,  sharp-pointed  dark  head-stone  on  which  stands 
the  record  :  "  William  Wordsworth,  died  1850,"  is  also  in- 
scribed the  name  of  his  wife  and  the  date  of  her  decease, 
nine  years  later:  "Mary  Wordsworth,  died  1859."  Near 
them,  in  equally  modest  graves,  sleep  Catharine,  Thomas, 
and  William,  children  of  the  pair  so  happily  joined  in 
death  as  in  life ;  and  within  six  feet  of  Wordsworth's 
grave,  at  its  head  and  toward  the  church,  a  much  more 
pretentious  stone,  with  an  open  cross  within  a  circle,  and 


ENGLISH    LAKE    GLIMPSES.         261 

church-text  inscription,  shows  the  resting-place  of  poor 
Hartley  Coleridge,  at  one  time  so  promising  a  rival  of  his 
distinguished  father,  in  the  world  of  letters.  Others  thau 
myself,  I  fancy,  share  in  an  error  which  only  that  day 
corrected  for  me — that  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge  himself 
sleeps  at  Grasmere,  when  in  fact  he  is  buried  many  miles 
away,  though  still  in  the  Lake  Country — at  Keswick,  in 
Cumberland. 

Our  way  back  to  "Windermere,  on  that  memorable  day, 
after  a  halt  at  the  pretty  little  Prince  of  Wales  Lake 
House,  on  the  very  edge  of  the  mere  and  charmingly 
gardened — lay  beside  Rydal  Water,  a  grassy  mere  much 
more  diminutive  than  Grasmere,  but  almost  as  beautiful ; 
under  the  shadow  of  Nabscaur  (eastward)  a  craggy 
peak  of  rare  wild  beauty,  sheltering  ivy-grown  old  Xab 
Cottage,  bearing  its  quaint  date  of  "  1 702,"  and  sacred  as 
the  place  where  Hartley  Coleridge  spent  his  last  days  and 
died.  Here,  in  the  midst  of  some  of  the  loveliest  shaded 
grounds  that  even  Western  England  can  boast,  there  was 
a  view  at  a  little  distance  to  the  left  and  on  somewhat 
higher  ground  (no  nearer  access  was  attainable  without 
trouble  and  much  delay),  of  the  gray  ivied  front  and 
respectable  plain  gable  of  Rydal  3Iount,  from  which 
Wordsworth  had  sent  out  so  many  words  shaped  into  forms 
of  quiet  grace — scarcely  to  stir  the  world,  but  certainly  to 
make  it  better,  more  patient  and  more  loving. 

We  wei-e  then  upon  the  skirts  of  Ambleside  village 
proper,  lying  on  the  edge  of  W^indermere — verj-  old  and 
quaintly  beautiful  as  well  as  evidently  thriving  ;  with  its 
narrow,  winding,  shaded  streets,  kept  as  cleanly  as  if  each 
had  been  part  of  a  gentleman's  pleasance — its  antique, 
ivy-grown  cottages,  pretty  shops  that  seemed  to  be  needed 
and  patronized,  and  clustering  hotels  thronged  with 
pleasure-seekers  at  the  doors  and  halted  coaches  without. 
Going  toward  Grasmere  we  had  passed  the  lake  side  of 


262  PARIS    7aV    '6  7. 

this  gem  of  villages,  and  now  we  were  on  the  other  or  in- 
land border,  and  the  two  vieAVS  joined  in  a  fascination  not 
easy  to  convey  in  words  but  the  most  natural  of  sensations 
to  experience  amid  such  scenery.  I  have  been  selecting 
some  dozen  of  places,  here  and  there,  in  some  one  of  Avhich 
to  locate  my  "  Sabine  farm  "  in  that  golden  day  when  end- 
less toil  amid  the  crowd  shall  no  longer  be  needed  to  win 
daily  bread.  Each  is  for  some  special  mood  that  may 
then  be  my  prevailing  condition  ;  and  let  it  be  recorded, 
here,  that  if  I  shall  then  have  chanced  to  reach  the  point 
of  desiring  to  be  quietly,  lazily,  dreamily,  world-forgettingly 
happy,  with  not  a  rough  sensation  to  stir  my  late-found 
Quaker  placidity — then,  and  only  then,  I  shall  certainly 
choose  Ambleside,  the  very  loveliest  little  English  country- 
village  of  thorn  all — the  incarnation  of  that  sweet  rural 
quiet  which  England  possesses  in  larger  measure  than 
any  other  country  on  the  globe  :  which  America  can 
admire  but  will  be  neither  able  nor  willing  to  imitate  with- 
in the  next  five  hundred  years. 

We  drove  away  from  the  wooing  shades  of  Ambleside 
regretfully,  pausing  a  moment  more  to  catch  a  nearer  view 
of  Miss  Martineau's  prim  residence,  and  to  hear  the  chiming 
of  the  bells,  just  striking  the  hour,  in  the  little  village 
church  thrusting  up  its  taper  spire  so  near.  And  just  then, 
when  we  were  looking  back  vipon  the  shady  lanes  of  one 
side  of  the  village  and  the  lovely  shore  and  gliding  boats 
of  Ambleside  "Water-Head  girding  the  other — just  then 
there  came  a  glimpse  which  seemed  to  have  been  sent  to 
complete  what  would  otherwise  have  been  only  nearly 
perfect.  Up  from  Bowness,  at  the  head  of  the  lake,  for 
Ambleside  at  its  foot,  came  a  little  steamer,  not  much  larger 
than  a  toy,  but  large  enough  for  the  waves  it  was  likely  to 
encounter — gay  with  tourists  and  pleasure-seekers  who 
waved  handkerchiefs  and  behaved  like  school-children, 
while  the  atom  of  boat  mimicked  its  sea-going  sisters  in  the 


ENGLISH    LAKE    GLIMPSES.         263 

noisy  pomp  of  marine  progress,  as  if  it  knew  that  it  wa8 
filling  a  picture. 

So  it  was  that  we  rode  hack  by  the  shore  of  Windermere 
to  the  Windermere  Hotel,  catching  raid-day  light  on  all 
that  we  had  before  seen  under  the  cooler  shadows  of  morn- 
ing ;  eye,  ear,  soul,  sense,  all  full  of  the  wondrous  indescrib- 
able beauty  of  the  sweetest  of  June  days  among  the  most 
charming  of  shaded,  rose-bordered  scenery;  well  aware 
that  we  had  caught  only  "  glimpses,"  and  those  too  few,  of 
the  Lake  Country,  but  richer  by  a  happy  memory  if  we 
should  never  again  set  foot  within  it,  and  by  a  pleasant 
introduction  in  the  event  of  some  possible  future  pilgrimage. 
12 


xxn. 

"SENT    TO     COVENTRY;"    WITH    PEEPS    AT    KEITIL- 
WORTH  AND  WARWICK. 

I  WAS  "  sent  to  Coventry,"  literally,  as  I  suppose  that  I 
have  long  ago  been  consigned  to  that  nice  old  place  in  other 
aspects.  "  When  you  go  to  Stratford  and  the  other  Shak- 
speare  neighborhoods,  don't  miss  Coventry,  which  you  wiU. 
find  to  be  an  old  town  beating  your  Chester  hollow  ;  and 
you  will  discover  that  they  all  come  in,  in  a  circle  " — so 
said  an  old  traveler  to  me,  before  leaving  America ;  and  he 
it  was  who,  after  doing  as  much  as  any  other  living  man 
to  keep  me  "  out  of  Coventry,"  finally  dispatched  me 
thither ! 

No  matter  how  or  when  we  came  to  Birmingham ;  or 
through  what  wildernesses  of  smoking  foundry-chimneys, 
with  red  furnaces  glowing  beneath  them,  and  the  whole 
surrounding  country  seeming  one  chaos  of  refuse  ore, 
uptoi-n  earth  and  desolation,  with  Dudley  Castle  frowning 
ruinously  from  its  embowered  height  in  the  very  midst, 
like  a  grim  old  broken-down  aristocrat  too  closely  pressed 
upon  by  a  set  of  unpleasant  and  dirty  through  thrifty 
canaille^  and  supplying,  they  say,  a  wonderful  view  over  the 
fire-vomiting  iron-country  at  night, — no  matter  through 
what  of  all  these  we  came  by  Wolverhampton  and  ap- 
proached the  g4-eat  depot  of  the  bogus  and  Brummagem  in 
manufacture ;  or  whether  the  waiter  at  the  Queen's  did  or 


''SEN'T    TO     C  OVEN^TRT.''  265 

did  not  finally  allow  himself  to  bring  rae  my  under-done 
steak  after  an  hour  of  waiting  for  something  decently 
cooked ;  or  whether  my  traveling-companions  and  myself 
consented  or  refused td  adopt  the  peculiar  Birmingham  fiish- 
ion  of  walking  in  the  middle  of  the  street  and  ignoring 
the  sidewalk  altogether ;  or  whether  we  took  pencil 
sketches  of  the  Corn  Market  and  the  Town  Hall — really  the 
only  two  handsome  buildings  in  Birmingham,  the  former 
modern  French  and  very  tasteful,  and  the  latter  a  rough 
Parisian  Madeleine  disfigured  by  being  placed  on  a  heavy 
Norman  stone  lower-story ;  or  whether  we  did  or  did  not 
make  extensive  contracts  among  the  doubtful  wares,  fi-om 
iron  to  the  very  finest  brass,  with  which  Birmingham 
seems  to  be  overlaid  as  pinchbeck  watches  are  sometimes 
plated  with  silver — the  shop-windows  glittering  with 
everything  cheaply  tempting  and  purchasable,  from  but- 
tons and  breastpins  to  blacksmiths'  bellows  ;  or  whether 
there  was  enough,  or  only  partially  enough,  of  penny-whis- 
tle locomotives  rolling  in  and  out  that  long  station  imme- 
diately under  the  Queen's,  to  make  sleep  easy  and  comfort- 
able, on  the  night  when  we  tabernacled  there ; — no  mat- 
ter for  all  or  any  of  these  things,  I  say :  one  morning  we 
found  ourselves  going  from  Birmingham  to  Coventry, 
and  eventually,  after  being  carried  ofi"  to  Leamington 
through  a  locked  railway-carriage  door  and  a  few  stupid 
porters,  set  down  at  the  station  of  old  Coventry  itself. 

One  immortality  is  generally  sufiicient  for  a  single  town, 
but  Coventry  has  two,  being  made  sacred  by  two  flashes 
of  genius,  ages  apart — the  one,  that  Shakspeare's  Falstaif 
(in  "  King  Henry  the  Fourth  ")  "  would  not  march  through 
Coventry  with  'em !"  when  mustering  his  terrible  recruits 
that  were  never  matched  until  Colonel  Billy  Wilson  en- 
listed his  Zouaves  ;  the  other  that  Tennyson  (whose  poetry 
I  have  a  bad  habit  of  not  admiring,  but  who  certamly  cov- 
ered himself  with  glory  in  "  Godiva,") 


266  PARIS    IN    '67. 

"  Walteil  for  the  train  at  Coventry, 
And  hung  with  grooms  and  porters  on  the  bridge, 
To  watch  the  three  tall  spires;  and  there  ♦  shaped 
The  city's  ancient  legend ." 


The  "  bridge  "  is  an  arched  one  of  stone,  crossing  a  lit- 
tle gulley  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  railway  station 
by  which  we  approached  the  town, — a  place  where 
"grooms  "  and  "porters  "  and  expectant  passengers  would 
naturally  "hang"  while  waiting  for  habitually-delayed 
trains ;  and  going  on  it  to  observe  the  fact,  I  found  that 
the  "  three  tall  spires,"  round,  high,  pointed  and  almost 
identical  in  form  as  seen  from  that  distance,  had  nearly  an 
appearance  of  being  equi-distant  and  were  singularly 
effective  from  that  point  and  cause. 

Thenceforth  I  think  that  I  was  better  prepared  for  the 
Coventry  that  1  found,  than  I  could  otherwise  have  been 
by  any  other  preparation  than  such  an  approach ;  for  the 
mediaeval  came  to  me  with  the  bridge  and  its  associations, 
and  certainly  nowhere  upon  earth  is  a  full  appreciation  of 
the  moyen  age  more  necessary  than  in  that  picturesque 
old  town  which  forms  the  heart  of  Warwickshire. 

A  glorious  old  town  of  narrow  winding  streets  and 
peaked  gables — some  of  the  houses  overlapping  each  other 
more  and  more  at  every  higher  story,  until  the  two  op- 
posite neighbors  cannot  be  separated  more  than  three  or 
lour  feet  at  top ;  and  the  strange  slat-and-plaster  arch- 
itecture (timber  posts,  beams,  sills  and  diagonal  braces, 
and  rough-cast  brick  filling)  of  all  the  centuries  from  the 
thirteenth  to  the  seventeenth,  represented  more  plentifully 
and  even  more  beautifully  than  in  my  favorite  Chester,  with 
one  or  two  exceptions  in  the  old  Derby  Palace  and  God's- 
Providence  House  of  the  latter.  It  cannot  be  expected 
that  I  should  be  able  to  designate  localities,  after  but  a  sin- 
gle day's  visit;  but  all  such  old  towns  have  an  ancient 
centre — on  the  Continent  generally  a  fountain,  in  England 


''SENT    TO     COVENTRY.''  267 

commonly  a  cross,  past  or  present — around  which  the 
oldest  buildings  and  associations  cluster;  and  the  heart  of 
old  Coventry  lies  at  and  around  what  was  once  the  mar- 
ket-cross, now  simply  a  broad  but  irregular  open  space 
temiinating  what  I  think  they  call  the  High  street,  with  the 
grouped  churches  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  and  the 
"shopping"  centre  of  the  town  in  corresponding  proxim- 
ity. Standing  there  and  looking  in  any  direction,  and 
walking  only  a  few  yards  to  gaze  up  some  of  the  narrow, 
winding,  uj^per-story-darkened  alleys,  with  the  shops  ap- 
parently yet  older  than  the  houses  and  the  people  some- 
how carrying  a  greater  air  of  antiquity  than  either — one 
gets  such  a  peep  at  Midland  England  of  the  olden  time  as 
dwellers  on  the  newer  side  of  the  Atlantic  can  scarcely 
realize  from  any  description.  And  one  wants  to  have  the 
power  of  taking  up  a  few  of  these  old  houses,  intact  and 
with  all  the  care  and  reverence  due  to  advanced  age,  trans- 
porting them  beyond  the  ocean,  and  seasoning  with  them 
the  somewhat  staring  modernism  of  the  very  Kew  World. 
I  think  that  one  or  two  of  the  oldest  and  most  picturesque 
of  the  Coventry  houses,  or  some  yet  older  and  finer  that  I 
saw  a  little  later  at  continental  Strasbourg,  set  down  and 
glass-cased  as  shows  in  the  Central  Park,  Boston  Common, 
or  Independence  Square,  might  do  at  least  something  to 
prevent  the  tearing  down  of  every  American  house  before 
it  has  seen  fifty  years,  under  the  idea  that  it  must  be  a 
worthless  shell  by  that  time.  I  am  not  too  sanguine,  how- 
ever; for  I  remember  the  New  York  Walton  House  a 
beer-shop,  the  Burns  Cofiee  House  torn  down  to  make 
room  for  piled  lumber  and  dry-goods-boxes,  and  the  Han- 
cock House  swept  away  from  the  fashionable  thoroughfare 
of  a  city  (Boston)  that  really  did  pretend  to  honor  the 
antique;  and  after  these  instances,  who  shall  say  that  one 
of  these  glorious  old  relics  of  Middle-age  England,  trans- 
ported to  America,  would  not  be  an  oven-shed  within  the 


268  PARIS    IK    '67. 

first  twelvemonth,  and  fire-wood  and  dock-filling  within  the 
next  ? 

It  is  only  a  little  distance  down  one  of  the  lateral  streets 
branching  at  the  market-cross,  that  old  St.  Michael's  (one 
of  the  "  three  tall  spires  ")  shoots  up  high  and  clear  into 
the  summer  sky,  its  elaborate  architecture  crumbling  with 
the  wash  and  wear  of  six  or  seven  hundred  years,  statues 
fallen,  points  gone  and  edges  rounded  by  the  slow  decay — 
while  within  mediaeval  gloom  and  sombre  beauty  seem 
fighting  for  predominance,  with  none  of  the  kneeling  wor- 
shippers of  the  continental  Catholic  churches  to  complete 
the  picture.  Near  it,  St.  Mary's  Hall  reveals  some  won- 
drously  fine  old  sculptures  in  both  wood  and  stone,  and 
shows  how  both  the  materials  may  mellow  as  well  as  crum- 
ble beneath  the  fingers  of  time.  But  I  caught  myself 
turning  away  from  both,  and  even  from  the  strawberries 
with  which  Anna  Maria  was  continually  tempting  both  her 
abstemious  companions  (and  they  were  certainly  some  of 
the  largest,  finest  and  most  luscious  that  I  have  ever  seen 
in  any  land) — turning  away  even  from  these,  I  say,  to 
bathe  my  eyes  and  soul  in  that  wealth  of  old  houses — very 
old  houses — time-worn,  weather-beaten,  crumbling,  pictur- 
esque, lovely  old  houses  ! 

N.  B.  I  am  not  clear  as  to  the  comfort  and  convenience 
of  living  in  any  of  those  "  very  old  houses,"  in  Coventry 
or  elsewhere  :  they  may  lack  "  modern  conveniences,"  for 
all  that  I  know  to  the  contrary ;  they  may  have  leaky  roofs 
and  be  infested  by  rats,  cockroaches  and  other  vermin. 
What  I  insist  upon  is  that  they  are  very  pretty  adjuncts 
to  scenery,  very  interesting  reminders  of  the  past,  and  that 
I  want  them,  like  sheep  in  a  pasture  or  trees  in  a  vista,  to 
look  at  and  talk  about. 

"  Where  is  Peeping  Tom  ?"  I  think  that  question  was 
asked  by  one  and  another  of  us,  twenty  times  before  direc- 
tion showed  us  what  was  all  the  while  in  plain  sight ;   for 


''SENT    TO     COVENTRY.''  269 

to  go  to  Coventry  and  come  away  without  seeing  Peeping 
Tom,  would  be  the  most  disgraceful  of  "  Hamlets  "  without 
a  Prince.  We  found  him  at  last,  however — a  queer  old 
image  with  leering  eyes,  cocked  hat  and  a  soldier's  armor, 
still  sticking  headforemost  partially  out  of  a  third-story 
window  on  a  corner  of  the  main  street,  not  far  from  the 
market-cross.  I  have  an  indistinct  idea  that  some  of  the 
Coventry  people  said  that  the  location  was  on  Hertford 
street,  at  the  corner  of  Smithford.  At  all  events,  the  old 
fellow  leered  out,  as  they  say  that  he  has  done,  in  solid  oak, 
once  and  again  repainted,  for  at  least  five  or  six  hundred 
years ;  and  I  found  the  Coventry  people  as  determined 
believers  in  him,  in  Lady  Godiva  herself,  and  all  concerned 
in  the  legend,  as  are  the  Edinburghers  in  Jeanj.e  Deans,  or 
the  Virginians  in  Pocahontas.  And  I  found  them  holding 
religiously,  too,  to  the  fact  of  the  tailor  having  been 
stricken  stone-blind  for  his  deed  of  meanness,  and  slow  to 
receive  the  Governor's  little  story,  that  Tom  was  advised 
of  his  fate  beforehand,  by  a  wizard  companion,  but  declared 
his  intention  to  "  go  one  eye  on  the  peep,  anyway  I"  and 
did  so,  losing  his  one  eye  as  the  penalty. 

There  does  really  seem  to  be  some  reason  for  believing 
that  Lady  Godiva  once  existed,  and  even  that  she  rode 
through  Coventry  naked,  to  relieve  the  people  of  some 
peculiar  vassalage.  There  was  certainly  a  Leofric  Earl  of 
Mercia,  in  the  twelfth  century,  and  a  Countess  Godiva, 
his  wife ;  and  the  Earl  certainly  did  great  benevolences  to 
his  people,  for  love  of  and  through  the  intercession  of  his 
lady.  So  much  is  history  ;  and  the  legendary  part  seems 
to  have  been  begun  very  long  ago,  even  if  it  had  no  foun- 
dation. The  great  Summer  Fairs  of  Coventry  began  so 
far  back  as  1217,  under  grant  from  Henry  the  Third  ;  and 
it  is  well  known  that  Henry  the  Sixth  went  there  especially 
to  attend  one,  in  1455 ;  that  Henry  the  Eighth,  accompan- 
ied by  Catharine  of  Braganza,  did  likewise  in   1510,  and 


270  PARIS    IN    '67. 

Mary  in  1525;  though  there  does  not  appear  to  be  any 
positive  proof  that  the  Lady  Godiva  was  erer  carried  in 
procession  until  1678,  in  Charles  the  Second's  time,  when 
the  spectacle  of  an  apparently-naked  woman  riding  through 
the  streets  may  well  have  been  considered  a  new  boon  to 
a  dissolute  age. 

Immense  splendors  seem  to  have  been  attached,  first  and 
last,  to  the  Godiva  pageant,  which  brought  at  once  pleasure 
and  profit  to  the  country  shop-keepers.  The  civic  bodies, 
trade  and  benevolent  societies,  vast  bodies  of  citizens  and 
strangers,  >vith  the  elephant  and  castle  (the  city  arms), 
flags,  banners,  knights  in  armor,  mock-bishops,  jesters  and 
all  the  concomitants  of  a  popular  procession,  apjaearto  have 
passed  through  Coventry,  every  few  years,  in  honor  of  the 
beautiful  myth  or  the  more  glorious  reality  of  self-sacri- 
ficing womanhood.  The  last,  thus  far,  was  held  on 
Monday,  the  23d  of  June,  1862,  with  a  stupendous  display, 
the  elephant  loaned  from  Wombwell's  menagerie;  and 
Lady  Godiva,  resplendent  in  white  cambric  fleshings,  half 
covered  with  a  wig  of  false  fair  hair  descending  to  her 
knees,  her  head  crowned  with  the  waving  plumes  of  a 
princess,  and  riding  a  spotless  white  charger  richly  capari- 
soned, personated  by  a  lady  somewhat  ambiguously  desig- 
nated as  "Madame  Letitia,  from  the  Royal  Academy, 
Trafalgar  Square,  London." 

Ah,  well,  in  spite  of  the  immorality  of  all  such  things,  I 
should  have  liked  to  see  that  portion  of  the  Coventry  Show 
Fair  in  which  Godiva  rode  "  in  the  flesh."  So  I  think 
would  Anna  Maria ;  I  am  doubtful  about  the  Captain,  who 
has  his  own  opinions.  I  saw  the  Coventry  Fair,  but  not 
the  Fair,  the  "  Coventry  and  Midland  Fair  and  Exhibition," 
in  full  glory,  the  odd  old  streets  blocked  with  odder  articles 
on  exhibition  and  sale,  from  reaping  and  seeding  machines 
and  the  fruits  and  flowers  in  which  Warwickshire  seemed 
just  then  to  be  pleasantly  smothered,  to  the  cheap  bijou- 


''SENT    TO     COVENTRY.'''  27l 

terie  of  Birmingham  and  the  elegant  trifles  of  the  skilful 
Coventry  silk-weavers ;  the  narrow  ways  gay  with  wreathed 
arches  and  fluttering  with  flags,  bannerols,  and  streamers ; 
the  streets  full  of  a  rural  as  well  as  a  civic  population, 
affording  an  endless  study  of  wholesome  faces  with  not  a 
few  pretty  ones,  quaint  costumes,  broad  speech  and  general 
jollity.  If  we  did  not  see  the  Godiva  Fair  it  is  certain 
that  we  saw  and  enjoyed  the  next  best  thing  after  it ;  and 
it  will  be  long,  I  think,  before  either  of  us  forgets  the 
June  simshine,  the  June  fruits  and  June  roses,  which 
seemed  to  blend  with  the  waving  flags  and  the  smiling 
faces,  to  wreathe  an  atmosphere  of  peculiar  delight  around 
memorable  old  Coventry ! 

Then  what  a  glorious  open-carriage  ride  we  had,  over 
the  splendid  pike  and  under  and  between  the  long  lines  of 
giant  elms  stretching  away  toward  Kenilworth,  through 
the  interminable  estates  of  Lord  Leigh,  whose  people  seem 
bowing  to  the  Xew  in  the  introduction  of  steam-ploughs 
and  harrows  (to  see  the  working  of  some  of  which  among 
the  tenacious  clayey  loam,  both  the  Captain  and  the  Gov- 
ernor abandoned  the  carriage  and  made  the  acquaintance 
of  ploughed  ground,  hunter-mounted  overseer,  and  leg- 
ginged  gamekeeper),  while  they  cling  to  the  Old  in  the 
preservation  of  so  many  foxes  that  the  farmers  complain  of 
ruined  crops  and  desolated  poultry-yards.  Then,  there  and 
everywhere,  Warwickshire  was  charmingly- wooded,  heavi- 
ly-cropped, handsomely-kept,  and  lovely  beyond  descrip- 
tion ;  but  by-and-by  came  a  little  to  wnof  gabled  stone  cottages 
and  uneven,  winding  streets,  if  possible  older  than  Coven- 
try, through  which  our  smart  fly  dashed  Avith  much  scream- 
ing of  geese  and  scattering  of  children ;  and  then  beside 
us  there  was  a  massive  ivy-grown  ruined  gateway,  behind 
which  a  green  lawn  sloped  up  to  pile  after  pile  of  castella- 
ted ruins  that  seemed  like  the  wreck  of  not  a  mere  single 
building,  but  half  a  city,  and — 
12* 


272  PARIS    IN   '67. 

Kenil worth  Castle ! 

Brave  old  name,  hallowed  alike  by  history  and  romance ! 

Some  of  us,  then  present,  had  had  a  jolly  time,  not  many 
months  before,  seeing  and  hearing  Lady  Don  play  her  capi- 
tal Leicester  in  the  burlesque  "  Kenilworth,"  and  sing  that 
song  of  vivacious  mischief  with  the  arch  refrain  to  which 
her  own  shapely  limbs  gave  such  point : — 

"  Said, '  Honi  soit  qui  mal  y  pense,' 
And  wrote  it  on  the  garter  1" 

And  all  of  us,  perhaps,  had  thrilled  beneath  the  terrible 
force  of  Ristori,  playing  her  majestic  Queen  Elizabeth, 
and  seeming  to  revive  that  screaming  female  eagle  of  the 
Tudors.  Well,  both  those  creations  came  back  to  us  at  that 
moment,  in  that  first  view  of  grand  old  Kenilworth — its 
fallen  towers  yet  lordly  in  their  extent  and  the  rich  fash- 
ioning of  their  sculptured  windows,  especially  those  of  the 
banqueting-room,  where  the  echoes  of  royal  merriment  seem 
even  yet  to  be  ringing ;  sculptured  entrance  and  crumbling 
stair  showing  where  probably  the  Great  Queen  entered  and 
stepped  in  her  pride  of  state,  when  the  magnificent  noble 
received  her  with  two  thousand  servants  at  his  back  and 
the  revenue  of  a  year  spent  in  a  single  day ;  the  rich  green 
of  what  was  once  the  tilt-yard  lying  yet  almost  unbroken 
between  the  well-preserved  gateway  and  the  ruined  main 
building,  and  showing  a  sod  dense  and  compact  enough  for 
the  best  footing  that  ever  knight's  steed  held  in  the  peril- 
ous joust ;  and  over  crumbling  wall  and  fallen  battlement 
great  trees  striding  Hke  conquerors,  thrusting  out  their 
giant  arms  even  up  the  broken  stairways  that  Anna 
jNIaria's  daring  foot  would  tempt,  forcing  branches  intru- 
sively through  shattered  windows,  flaunting  the  all-cover- 
ing ivy  as  their  banner,  and  seeming  to  make  more  lordly 
in  decay  even  what  they  ruined. 

I  have  said,  already,  what  every  one  knows — that  there 


''SENT    TO     GOVENTRT.''  273 

are  few  spots  so  doubly  hallowed  as  Kenilworth,  by  both 
history  and  romance ;  and  the  singularity  is,  that  since 
Scott  touched  it,  no  one  can  quite  dissever  the  one  from  the 
other.  The  arrogant  Leicester  and  the  queenly  Tudor  are 
not  more  real,  to  most  intelligent  persons,  than  Wayland 
Smith,  and  certainly  not  more  so  than  Amy  Robsart ;  and 
I  have  no  doubt  whatever  that  the  born  Englishman  who 
that  day,  wiihui  the  walls  of  Kenilworth,  informed  me  of 
the  discovery  of  a  subterranean  passage  leading  from  a 
farm-house  at  some  miles  distance,  to  the  grounds  under 
the  castle,  believed  his  story  and  believed  that  Amy  Rob- 
Bart,  in  the  flesh,  had  lived  at  that  farm-house  and  been 
visited  secretly  by  Leicester  through  that  subterranean 
passage  !  Oh,  romancers  !  romancers ! — how  much  you 
have  to  answer  for,  w^hether  you  romance  between  covers 
or  in  the  prompter' s-copy  for  the  stage  !  How  you  make 
Leicester  a  bad  demi-god,  and  Elizabeth  a  royal  tartar, 
and  Richard  a  crook-backed  tyrant,  and  Richmond  a 
high-toned  monarch,  and  Richelieu  the  most  conscientious 
of  men  and  statesmen,  and  Rienzi  a  knightly  hero,  and 
Masaniello  a  fisherman  for  greatness  instead  of  porgies  and 
sardines ;  and  how  you  wiU,  some  day,  I  suppose,  prove  that 
Jeff  Davis  never  did  an  ambitious  thing  in  his  life ;  and 
transform  the  rough,  honest,  indelicate,  jovial,  useful  Lin- 
coln into  an  accomplished  Paladin,  and  straighten  Ben 
Butler's  visuals  as  well  as  his  pecuniary  character! 

But  all  this  by  the  way :  it  is  some  distance  from  Kenil- 
worth to  Paris  and  Rome  and  Washington,  as  the  old 
Scotchmen  of  the  west  used  to  say  that  it  was  "  a  far  cry  to 
Lochow !"  The  ivy  clambering  over  the  ruined  walls  h:is 
already  been  spoken  of;  but  there  was  something  else,  that 
June  day,  less  enduring  but  far  more  beautiful:  roses  and 
trumpet-creepers  and  other  climbing  flowers  filled  the  ven- 
erable gardens  and  sprung  into  the  embrasure  of  every 
broken  window,  while  they  made  the  air  heavy  with  per- 


274  PARIS    IN    '67. 

fume  that  took  away  the  damp,  moldy  smell  from  decay; 
and  I  hoj^e  and  believe  that  my  good  friend  (for  all  that  I 
know  to  the  contraiy)  the  Earl  of  Clarendon,  statesman 
and  present  proprietor  of  this  finest  of  old  romantic  and 
historical  ruins,  is  not  the  poorer  for  the  slight  inroads  that 
my  unscrupulous  fingers  and  Anna  ^Maria's  specimen-book 
made  on  his  floral  treasures.  Neither  the  porter  nor  the 
gardener  was  in  fault — I  aver  it :  let  the  inquiry  be  made, 
and  see  whether  either  of  them  spent  an  unwonted  shil- 
ling, that  day,  at  the  tumble-down  inn  immediately  across 
the  way  from  the  gate-house. 

"Away  from  Kenilworth,  and  half  an  hour's  ride  toward 
Warwick,  and  down  a  little  shaded  lane  to  the  left  from 
the  road  stood  an  old  mill,  with  a  broad,  stone-bordered 
embankment  before  it,  a  willow-hung  little  river  creeping 
and  eddying  below,  and  a  castellated  pile  of  much  anti- 
quity in  appearance  rising  on  the  thither  shore,  just  be- 
yond the  golden  meadow.  The  old  mill  of  heavy  stone, 
and  scrupulously  clean  and  well  kept,  though  seemingly 
dusted  with  the  meal  of  centuries,  beyond  any  hope  of 
clearing  it  entirely  away,  was  Guy's-Clifi"  Mill,  said  to 
be  the  oldest  authentic  mill  in  England,  and  imdoubtedly 
some  of  the  mighty  rough  stones  of  its  walls  and  door- 
ways standing  before  the  time  of  the  Conqueror  ;  the  little 
swirling,  shaded  river,  was  the  Avon  of  song  and  story 
(called  by  all  local  residents,  not  "  Ahvon,"  as  pronounced 
by  us,  but  "Aighvon ")  ;  and  the  castellated  pile  was 
Guy's  Cliff,  a  fortress  celebrated  since  long  before  the  days 
when  Richard  Neville  made  kings  and  was  prouder  than 
any  king,  as  "  Earl  of  Warwick," — ay,  even  back  to  those 
when  it  was  just  emerging  from  the  crysalis  of  monastery- 
hood,  and  affording  shelter  in  its  rock-hewn  caves  to  that 
mirror  of  arrant  and  unfortunate  knighthood,  Guy  of 
Warwick,  the  only  "  old  English  worthy,"  by  the  way, 
except  Henry  the  Eighth,  whose  armor,  preserved  in  the 


''SENT    TO     GO  VENTRT.''  275 

•Tower  of  London,  would  answer  for  the  Governor's  wear 
in  the  unlikely  event  of  his  ever  deterinining  to  prance 
round  the  world  in  an  iron  coat. 

Half  an  hour  later,  I  was  within  Guy's  Cliff  (castle),  and 
the  grounds  surrounding  it,  lubberly  shown  through  the 
latter  by  a  boy  who  showed  his  expectancy  of  a  shilling  a 
little  too  much  for  strict  comfort,  and  courteously  through 
the  former  by  a  housekeeper  so  genteel  that  I  think  I 
should  have  been  less  awed  if  the  owner  (Lord  Charles 
Percy,  brother  to  the  Duke  of  Northumberland)  had  been 
himself  present  instead  of  in  London.  But  candor  com- 
pels the  remark,  that  since  Guy's  Cliff  came  into  posses- 
sion of  the  "Percies  of  old  name,"  through  marriage  with 
a  daughter  of  the  Greathead  family,  to  whom  it  came  from 
Byron's  Bertie  Greathead,  and  originally  from  Peregrine 
Bertie,  Duke  of  Ancaster  and  Kestevan, — that  since  that 
time  it  has  begun  to  look  a  little  tumble-down  at  the 
porches  and  within,  as  it  has  never  been  anything  else 
than  irregular  without,  a  mixture  of  square  and  round 
towers,  castle  and  mammoth  mansion.  Its  pictures,  some- 
what ostentatiously  shown,  are  also  a  little  Greatheady, 
a  scion  of  that  family  having  shown  a  crazy  power  with 
the  pencil,  which  culminates  in  one  large  panel-picture, 
opening  out  of  and  closing  into  the  dining-room  wall  at 
will,  on  I  forget  what  horrible  Italian  subject,  and  dismal 
enough  to  give  half  Western  England  the  nightmare. 
Though  much  wealth  was  evident  throughout,  and  though 
Guy's  Cliff  has  what  even  Shakspeare  would  have  desig- 
nated as  a  "  pleasant  seat,"  yet  somehow  I  could  not  help 
fancying  that  the  castle  had  a  mistress  and  no  master 
(such  things  have  been,  they  say,  when  the  wealth  came 
on  the  wife's  side),  and  that  the  money  spent  for  repairs 
was  always  looked  upon  a  shade  grudgingly. 

There  was  much  more  of  interest  without  Guy's  Cliff 
than   within  it ;   the  dungeon  cells  in  the  solid  (though 


276  PARIS    ly   'G7. 

soft)  rock,  now  forming  a  side  of  the  court-yard,  and  once 
supplying  rat-hole  cells  to  the  monks,  when  this  was  all  an 
abbey  of  some  starvation  order,  are  marvels  of  labor,  pa- 
tience and  self-denial ;  and  even  more  may  be  said  of  the 
excavation  under  the  bank,  at  the  base  of  the  castle,  on  the 
Avon-side,  where  hunted  old  Guy  is  reputed  to  have  hid- 
den himself  like  a  wild  beast  in  his  lair,  for  years,  and 
where  the  box  he  fashioned  for  his  tomby  bed,  from  a 
solid  log,  with  his  own  hands,  is  still  shown  and  reverenced. 
The  well,  also  under  the  bank,  on  the  Avon-side,  from 
which  he  drank  during  his  concealment,  is  cool  enough 
and  sweet  enough  to  have  kept  life  even  in  a  hunted  man  ; 
the  tangled  shades  overhanging  the  Avon  (at  one  point,  at 
a  really  startling  height  above  it)  are  rich  with  some  of  the 
very  finest  old  trees  of  old  England — oaks,  and  beeches, 
and  elms  of  immemorial  growth,  and  two  or  three  cedax*s- 
of-Lebanon  worthy  to  have  sprung  on  the  crest  of  Libanu3 
and  "wide-brauched  enough  to  shelter  a  regiment  each ; 
and,  taken  altogether,  Guy's  Cliff  is  one  of  the  relics  of 
the  past,  least  to  be  ignored  in  interesting  Warwickshire. 
Long  may  it  be,  before  the  patrimony  once  of  the  Nevilles 
and  then  of  the  Berties,  falls  into  worse  hands  than  those 
of  the  Percy-Smithsons ! 

There  was  another  and  much  more  imposing  and  much 
better-known  building,  though  scarcely  so  notable  in  the 
antiquarian  sense — coming  full  on  us  that  day  as  we  rode 
on  toward  Stratford,  and  breaking  into  view  as  we  sur- 
mounted the  steep,  stony  streets  of  the  old  village  of  War- 
wick, where  all  the  features  of  Midland  England  old  white- 
walled  and  thalched-cottage  architecture  seemed  to  be  in- 
tensified, and  where  the  sign  of  the  Bear  and  Ragged-staff 
seemed  to  bring  up  an  almost  painful  recollection  of  the 
cognizance  of  the  unfortunate  King-Maker. 

This  was  Warwick  Castle,  a  noble  round-towered  castel- 
lated pile,  hanging  over  the  Avon  at  a  point  where  the 


''SENT    TO     COVENTRY.''  277 

five-or-six-centuries-old  bridge  which  supplies  the  view, 
the  swirling  tide  beneath  and  umbrageous  shade  clustering 
close  around  its  foot,  combine  to  give  it  the  most  beautiful 
and  most  romantic  of  settings — the  whole  picture  familiar 
to  scenery-lovers,  for  the  last  fifty  years,  in  every  line  of 
pictorial  art,  from  recognized  landscape  to  window-shades 
and  fire-boards.  It  is,  in  fact,  a  pet  piece  in  English 
scenery,  as  indescribable  as  unnecessary  of  description. 
The  old  pile  bears  the  "  tooth  of  time  "  most  nobly,  as  if 
from  such  a  nest  of  beauty  nothing  should  dislodge  it ; 
and  though  a  few  of  the  crenelles  are  crumbling  away  from 
the  battlements,  and  some  of  the  long-past- sieges  have 
left  marks  that  even  the  climbing  ivy  can  scarcely  conceal, 
yet  the  Earl  of  Warwick  still  makes  it  a  favorite  residence 
and  it  remains  a  thing  of  present  use  as  well  as  antique 
show. 

Thei-e  is  a  celebrated  "  Warwick  vase "  within  it,  and 
no  doubt  many  features  of  interest,  historical  as  well  as 
merely  connected  with  the  residence  of  a  nobleman.  Yet 
I  confess  to  having  left  the  interior  unvisited,  and  to  not 
even  having  indulged  a  desire  to  spend  a  crown  or  two  in 
inspecting  the  bed-rooms  and  feeing  the  servants  of  George 
Guy  Greville,  The  outside  of  noble  and  royal  residences 
is  generally  the  most  satisfactory  :  let  us  fancy  that  it  is  so 
with  Warwick  Castle,  Soft  blow  the  winter  winds  around 
the  gray  donjon-keep,  and  tenderly  shroud  it  the  ivy,  said 
to  be  so  fatal  in  its  love ! — for  the  pile  has  a  history  of 
power  and  suffering,  of  attack  and  domination,  running 
far  back  through  the  ages  :  and  Midland-England  has  noth- 
ing more  nobly  and  perfectly  beautiful,  even  as  a  mere  ap- 
peal to  the  eye  and  the  ruder  senses,  than  the  Bear's  Hold 
over  the  Avon. 


xxin. 

TWO  DATS  AT   STRATFORD   AKD   CHARLECOTE. 

A  PLEA.SANT  afternoon  of  June,  that  on  which  we  caught 
the  first  glimpse  of  the  square  tower,  with  its  pointed  up- 
per spire,  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  and  disem- 
barked from  the  railway  train  at  the  quiet  station  of  Strat- 
ford-on-Avon.  A  Friday  afternoon,  too — usually  consid- 
ered the  most  unlucky  of  days,  but  blessed  above  others 
in  that  it  filled  a  hope  and  expectation  of  many  years,  by 
bringing  the  wandering  feet  to  the  home  and  tomb  of 
Shakspeare ;  and  yet  more  fortunate  that  it  chanced  to  bo 
market-day,  so  that  riding  down  the  main  street  to  the  Red 
Horse,  and  afterwards  walking  out  with  that  restlessness 
inevitable  while  waiting  dinner,  we  came  among  the  stacked 
carts,  temporary  booths,  fish,  cherries,  woolen  stockings, 
willow  baskets,  and  nick-nacks  of  the  Warwickshire  peo- 
ple ;  had  opportunities  to  note  their  homely  and  healthy 
rusticity  of  dress,  voice,  and  manner,  and  to  thus  fall  back, 
as  it  seemed,  at  least  two  centuries  nearer  the  time  of  the 
great  dead  who  had  brought  us  to  the  pilgrimage. 

The  foregoing  is  a  long  sentence,  I  am  aware  of  the  fact ; 
but  it  was  unavoidable.  There  are  constitutions  to  which 
an  occasional  long  sentence  (not  judicially  delivered)  is  as 
necessary  as  an  occasional  scrimmage  to  Phelim  O'Finne- 
gan,  from  the  county  Kerry,  or  an  occasional  flirtation  to 
Sophonisba  Jane ;  besides,  I  really  wanted  to  get  in  that 
"  market,"  which  materially  edified  and  amused  me,  and  I 


STRATFORD    AND     CHARLEGOTE.     279 

do  not  see  how  it  could  have  been  managed  otherwise. 
Aftei*  I  once  arrived  within  the  pui'ely  Shaksperian  pre- 
cincts, the  "  market "  would  certainly  have  received  the  go- 
by ;  for  Hawthorne  was  thoroughly  correct  when  he  re- 
marked, writing  of  this  very  Stratford  and  its  shrined 
worthy,  the  unconscious  arrogance  of  some  of  these  great 
dead,  who  do  not  allow  meaner  men  room  to  breathe 
around  them — scarcely  even  space  to  sleep  in  tombs  in 
their  vicinity. 

Feeble  wit,  too,  was  likely  to  receive  its  quietus  in  the 
Shakspeare  neighborhood ;  and  I  think  the  desire  of  vent- 
ing the  last  on  hand  of  a  bad  article,  may  have  moved 
Anna  3Iaiia  to  refuse  entering  the  one-gray-horse  omnibus 
waiting  to  convey  us  to  the  hostelry  of  the  Red  Horse,  on 
the  ground  that  "  she  did  not  see  any  red  horse,  nothing 
but  a  white  one ;  and  catch  her  going  to  a  house  where 
they  advertised  one  thing  and  supplied  another  !"  But 
the  charioteer  had  evidently  been  caught  in  that  silly  ver- 
bal trap  before,  for  he  assured  her  ladyship  with  a  grin, 
that  "  as  that  horse  had  carried  a  great  many  smart  people, 
writers,  and  such  like,  and  had  been  more  than  a  little 
written  about,  it  had  been  '  read  about '  as  well,  and  so 
he  thought  would  answer  the  purpose."  Whereupon 
Anna  Maria  shrunk  within  her  number-five  boots,  wonder- 
ing what  the  world  was  coming  to,  when  Warwickshire 
coachmen  picked  up  the  very  atrocities  of  bad  punning, 
flung  away  by  others  like  cigar  stumps,  and  played  upon 
them  in  that  unexpected  manner ! 

We  reached  the  Red  Horse,  however,  in  spite  of  the 
cheval  blatic  that  should  have  been  a  cheval  rouge — a  very 
old  inn,  wonderfully  quiet,  well  kept,  and  comfortable,  not 
far  from  the  willow-fringed  Avon  and  its  bridges,  reached 
by  passage  through  a  large  proportion  of  the  clean,  antique- 
looking  town,  which  seems  to  have  more  than  all  the  years 
of  Shakspeare's  fame  brooding  softly  and  slumberously 


280  PARIS    IN    '6  7. 

over  it.  The  hotel,  orer  the  door  of  which  was  the  horse 
for  which  Anna  Maria  had  been  looking,  was  entered  by 
an  archway  from  the  street,  arriving  visitors  debarking 
into  the  very  door  on  one  side  of  the  arch,  much  after  a 
fashion  now  peculiar  to  old  French  towns  ;  and  the  oldest 
of  all  old  stable-yards  in  the  rear,  where  lounged  smock- 
frocked  ostlers,  and  stood  waiting  the  most  antiquated  and 
odd-looking  assortment  of  gigs  and  open  carriages  that 
ever  blessed  the  eyes  of  an  antiquary.  Wendell  Holmes's 
"One-Horse  Shay"  was  nothing  to  some  of  them  in  the 
way  of  early  origin  ;  but  certainly  any  thing  more  modern 
would  have  been  out  of  place  and  jarred  all  the  proprie- 
ties in  that  quaint  mediaeval  stable-yard,  out  of  which 
Falstaff  himself  might  have  ordered  his  horse  in  the  days 
when  his  girth  bad  not  grown  too  ponderous  for  mount- 
ing. 

The  Red  Horse  is  in  some  sense  (like  many  other  places 
that  one  finds  in  Europe,  on  close  examination)  an  Ameri- 
can inn^  making  a  specialty  of  accommodating  the 
"  eagle's  brood,"  and  heading  its  bills  with  a  horse-crested 
oval  within  which  we  read  "  Red  Horse  Family  and  Com- 
mercial Hotel,"  while  around  the  border  runs  the  notifica- 
tion ;  "Known  to  Americans  as  Washington  L-ving's  Hotel." 
And  no  claim  could  be  less  arrogant,  better  supported,  or 
more  welcome  to  the  people  for  whose  suffrages  it  is  put 
forth ;  for  apart  from  the  thousands  upon  thousands  of  tlie 
great  in  every  walk  of  life  who  have  sojourned  at  the  Red 
Horse  (as  the  best  of  the  Stratford  inns)  in  making  their  pil- 
grimages to  the  birth-place  of  Shakspeare,  and  in  addition 
to  the  special  memory  that  Nathaniel  Hawthorne  (now 
already  a  classic  and  even  then  the  first  of  American  nov- 
elists) made  his  temporary  abode  there  when  tracing  out. 
ancestral  haunts  in  Warwickshire, — certain  it  is  that  the 
cozy  small  parlor,  looking  out  on  the  sunny  street  from 
which  not  all  the  market  carts  and  booths  had  yet  been 


STRATFORD    AND     CEARLECOTE.     281 

cleared  aAvay,  was  that  to  which  Washington  Irving  re- 
ferred (whether  he  sat  in  the  office-exhibited  chair,  or  not) 
when  he  wrote,  in  one  of  the  best-known  papers  of  the 
volume  which  literally  "  made  hira  "  as  "  Pickwick  "  made 
Dickens :  "  '  Shall  I  not  take  mine  ease  in  mine  inn  ?' 
thought  I,  as  I  gave  the  fire  a  stir,  lolled  back  in  my  elbow- 
chair,  and  cast  a  complacent  look  about  the  little  parlor  of 
the  Red  Horse,  at  Stratford-on-Avon." 

If  there  is  any  one  spot  on  earth  which  I  emphatically 
do  not  intend  either  to  describe  or  to  grow  eloquently 
maudlin  over,  that  spot  is  Shakspeare's  Birth-Place,  on 
Henley  street,  in  the  heart  of  the  quiet,  handsome,  odd  old 
town.  Both  have  been  so  often  done  before  rae  and  so 
much  better  done  than  I  can  hope  to  do,  that  I  have  no 
resource  but  to  fall  back  upon  my  reserved  rights,  as  did 
that  practical  person  who  declined  to  weep  at  an  affecting 
sermon  in  a  particular  church,  because  he  "  belonged  to 
another  parish" — objecting  to  fall  into  rhapsodies  from 
which  I  could  never  emerge  without  being  drowned  in  un- 
fortunate comparisons. 

There  are  feelings  and  facts,  however,  both  of  which 
can  be  expressed  without  rhapsody  or  attempted  minute 
description.  A  very  old  timber-and-plaster  house,  cross- 
gabled  at  the  right  end  and  with  two  dormer  windows 
at  centre  and  left,  evidently  restored  but  the  restorations 
so  made  that  the  large  original  portions  are  not  confounded 
with  the  additions, — stands  on  the  north  side  of  Henley 
street,  now  detached  fi*om  any  other  buildings,  and  taste- 
ful and  well-kept  flower-gardens  surrounding  the  rear  and 
ends.  Along  the  front  runs  a  wooden  portico,  sheltering 
the  doorways  and  lower  windows.  Within,  on  the  ground- 
floor,  a  roughly-built  apartment,  with  stone  floor  badly 
broken,  leads  back  to  a  kitchen  with  large  fire-place,  if 
possible  ruder  than  the  other.  Above,  the  front  room,  over 
the  street,  slant-roofed,  bare-raftered,   rough-floored  and 


282  PARIS    IN    '67. 

low,  lighted  by  one  large  window  with  many  squares  of 
small  glass  set  in  lead  sashes,  is  the  room  where  Shak- 
speare  is  reputed  to  have  been  born — where  I  really  be- 
lieve him  to  have  been  born,  because  there  seem  many 
reasons  to  believe  that  he  might  have  been,  none  to  prove 
that  he  might  not,  and  no  rival  places  set  up  as  the  origin- 
points  of  his  peerless  fame.  Behind  and  adjoining  are  (if 
I  remember  correctly),  two  much  smaller  and  less  comfort- 
able rooms,  low-raftered  and  evidently  used  for  bed-rooms 
when  the  house  was  occupied  for  dwelling  purposes. 
Nearly  every  inch  of  the  birth-room  wall  (the  whole  house 
being  whitewashed  and  kept  in  the  most  scrupulous  order) 
is  covered  with  pencil-inscriptions  of  names,  as  is,  indeed, 
nearly  every  inch  of  the  whole  house  susceptible  to  a  mark 
of  the  human  barnacles.  The  jianes  of  the  window  of  the 
birth-room  (alleged  to  be  the  original,  and  probably  so, 
as  certainly  very  old)  are  covered  with  diamond-scratches, 
that  of  Walter  Scott  ("  W.  Scott '')  being  so  easy  to  find 
that  Hawthorne  must  have  been  half-blind  to  miss  it  when 
looking  especially  for  it. 

This  is  Shakspeare's  birth-place  proper,  or  what  we  must 
regard  as  such,  for  a  correspondingly  good  reason  to  that 
which  induced  the  coroner's-jury  to  find  a  verdict  against 
a  man  not-too-clearly  indicated  as  the  murderer  of  another 
on  whose  body  (figuratively)  they  were  sitting  :  "  If  Jones 
didn't  kill  Smith,  who  did  ?"  If  Shakspeare  was  not 
born  here,  where  was  he  born  ?  I  repeat  that  I  am  satis- 
fied of  the  genuineness  of  the  Birth-Place  and  the  birth- 
room  ;  and  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  add  that  once  and  again  I 
hope  to  meet  on  the  same  spot,  and  still  in  the  same  charge 
in  which  she  seems  so  conscientious  and  capable,  the  ac- 
tive, intelligent  little  lady  (I  fancy  the  same  of  whom 
Hawthorne  wrote  as  the  "  lady-like  girl  ")  who  seemed  so 
much  disposed  to  treat  a  true  lover  of  Shakspeare's  memory 
with  even  extraordinary  courtesy,  while  she  had  not  an 


STRATFORD    AND     CHARLEGOTE.    283 

hour  before  shown  uo  small  proportion  of  the  tigress  ia 
preventing  the  persistent  efforts  of  a  human  pig  (I  grieve 
to  say  that  he  was  an  American)  to  break  a  positive  rule 
of  the  place  and  scribble  his  worthless  name  where  there 
are  quite  enough  already. 

So  much  for  the  facts — now  for  one  word  of  feeling. 
Some  have  expressed  themselves  as  disappointed  when 
standing  on  these  very  spots,  unable  to  find  the  thrill  that 
had  been  expected.  I  expected  no  special  thrill,  and  found 
one.  To  me,  the  old,  rough-stoned,  bare-raftered  room 
seemed  the  fitting  nest  from  which  such  a  bird  of  Jove 
might  have  sprung ;  to  me,  the  aroma  of  immortality 
seemed  to  pervade  every  stick  and  stone  of  the  house 
where  the  greatest  uninsjnred  penman  of  all  time  leapt 
into  being.  I  was  fully  content  and  happy  thus  to  have 
accomplished  one  more  of  the  pilgrimages  long-deferred 
and  anxiously  hoped  for ;  and  I  think  that  I  carried  some- 
thing of  the  atmosphere  of  that  content  away  with  me, 
combined  with  the  fragrance  of  a  few  June  roses  and  a 
little  of  the  product  of  that  "  bank  whereon  the  wild  thymo 
blows,"  given  me  by  a  fair  hand  that  shall  be  no  nearer 
named  but  well  remembered. 

Infinitely  more  romantic  in  all  its  suiTOundings  than  the 
Birth-Place,  is  Anne  Hathaway's  cottage  at  Shottery — 
perhaps  a  mile  or  two  from  Stratford,  westward,  on  the 
verge  of  that  Vale  of  Evesham  where  Simon  de  Montfort 
lost  power  and  life  in  his  battle  with  the  boy  First 
Edward.  (Can  bones  last  five  or  six  hundred  years,  I 
wonder  ? — for  only  a  year  before  I  rode  over  the  Vale, 
they  had  dug  up  the  bones  of  some  forty  men  lying  side 
by  side,  who  could  scarcely  have  been  placed  there  by  any 
other  event  than  the  great  battle.) 

Shottery  is  the  most  picturesque  of  rural  hamlets — the 
cottages  very  old,  thatched  and  weather-beaten,  and  nearly 
all  exhibiting  the  evidences  of  poverty ;  and  among  the 


284  PARIS    ly    '67. 

oldest  of  the  old  and  the  most  picturesque  of  the  pic- 
turesque, is  the  thatched  cottage  where  Shakspeare  courted 
and  married  Anne  Hathaway.  Old  without  (in  timber- 
and-plastei',  like  the  Birih-Place),  but  marvelously  well- 
preserved — an  old  age,  "  frosty,  but  kindly  ;"  old  within, 
low-ceiliuged  and  humble-looking,  but  with  preserved 
relics  of  furniture  and  bedding-linen  to  show  that  the 
Hathaways  were  once  people  of  no  mean  consideration. 
A  wealth  of  June  roses,  honey-suckles  and  sweet-williams 
(how  appropriate  the  latter  !)  blooming  in  the  old,  old  gar- 
den in  front  of  it;  and  remnants  under  the  shady  eaves 
showing  where  the  birds  had  nested  and  made  love, 
through  the  long  years  of  centuries,  like  the  unfledged 
great  man  and  the  humble  loving  woman  who  performed 
the  same  oflices  in  the  rooms  beneath,  ages  and  ages  ago  ! 
We  brought  away  sweet  recollections  of  Shotteiy,  did  we 
not.  Captain  who  deserted  and  rode  home  to  Stratford  in 
the  fly,  and  Anna  Maria  who  joined  in  that  sweetest  of 
walks  across  the  fields,  by  winding  "  Shakspeare's  path," 
with  the  sun  setting  in  golden  glory — the  hay-makers  (male 
and  female)  smothering  us  in  the  delicious  perfume  of 
their  labor — the  scenery  of  hedge  and  shade  and  green 
field  among  the  quietest  and  loveliest  of  Midland  England — 
the  air  perfection — the  influences  all  softening,  soothing 
and  enrapturing — and  as  we  paused  for  a  moment  at  one 
of  the  rustic  stiles  over  which  the  lovers  of  the  hamlet  may 
have  climbed  from  time  immemorial,  the  sad  sweet 
sunset  chimes  coming  over  the  fields  from  one  of  the  Strat- 
ford steeples,  filling  the  ear  as  perfectly  as  eye  and  heart 
and  brain  had  all  been  filled  for  hour  on  hour  preceding  ! 

The  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  containing  that  tomb 
which  I  believe  to  be  most  sacred  to  Englishmen  of  any 
inclosing  the  remains  of  a  mere  mortal — most  sacred,  I 
think,  even  to  Americans,  of  any  after  that  at  Mount  Ver- 
non— stands  almost  at  the  Avon-side,  the  shaded  church- 


STRATFORD    AXD     CEARLECOTE.    2S5 

yard  sweeping  down  to  the  very  edge  of  the  quiet,  wind- 
ing, beautiful  little  stream,  at  (if  my  memory  of  directions 
is  reliable)  the  southeastern  portion  of  the  town,  and  on 
the  western  bank  of  the  stream.  It  is  much  handsomer 
and  more  imposing  than  most  semi-rural  English  Midland 
churches,  being  cruciform,  in  full  Gothic,  crenellated,  with 
florid  Gothic  windows,  and  a  neat  square  tower  with  orna- 
meuted-buttressed  corners,  from  which  a  sexangular  pointed 
spire  of  moderate  height  springs  gracefully.  Hawthorne  (I 
seem  to  be  always  quoting  Hawthorne,  in  connection  with 
Stratford ;  but  the  trutli  is  that  he  was  one  of  the  most 
appreciative  of  all  pilgrims  to  Warwickshire) — Hawthorne 
has  remarked  what  probably  has  struck  many  another  vis- 
itor to  the  Holy  Trinity — that  "the  poet  and  his  family  are 
in  possession  of  the  very  best  burial-places  that  the  church 
affords."  I  feel  disposed  to  go  a  step  further  and  say  that 
they  have  managed  to  be  buried  in  not  only  the  best  places 
in  the  church,  but  in  one  of  the  most  eligibly-situated  of  all 
the  churches  of  spire-dotted  England.  For  the  beauty  of 
the  little  river  has  already  been  commented  upon  and  really 
needed  no  comment  whatever ;  and  centuries  have  pushed 
into  noble  luxuriance,  in  the  stone-marked  and  grave- 
mounded  yard  of  velvet  turf,  some  of  the  noblest  elms  and 
other  fine  old  shade- trees  known  even  to  well-timbered 
Warwickshire.  The  path  from  the  gate  to  the  church  at 
the  farther  end  of  the  groimds,  is  even  duskily  shaded  by 
the  arching  elms  that  meet  and  interlace  above ;  and  no 
entrance  could  be  more  appropriate  or  more  conducive  to 
that  feeling  of  tender  reverence  proper  on  approaching  the 
mausoleum  of  one  of  earth's  greatest  dead. 

Within,  the  Holy  Trinity  well  redeems  the  promise  made 
from  without.  The  windows  are  of  richly-stained  glass ; 
the  order  is  light  Gothic,  with  no  small  elaboration  in  fin- 
ish; the  arches  squared  at  the  half-spring,  and  angel- 
pointed  ;  and  the  roof  in  small  paneling  with  rose-joints. 


286  PARIS   IN   '67. 

It  seems  new  enough  not  to  have  been  touched  by  the 
finger  of  decay,  and  yet  old  enough  to  command  respect 
for  its  fair  proportion  of  centuries.  The  tomb  of  Shak- 
speare  is  in  the  chancel  (as  nearly  every  one  knows  from 
pictorial  or  other  information),  near  the  foot  of  the  altar- 
railing,  and  very  close  to  the  left  side  when  looking  toward 
the  chanceL  A  broad,  flat,  dark  stone,  level  with  the  pave- 
ment (though  visitors  are  somewhat  carefully  watched  to 
see  that  they  do  not  inadvertently  put  foot  upon  it) ;  the 
inscription  on  it,  iu  Roman,  so  inexorably  copied  by  every 
writer  and  so  well  known  from  its  peculiar  tenor,  that  it 
is  again  repeated  almost  with  shame  in  the  present  instance 
— the  only  redeeming  fact  in  the  repetition  being  that  the 
spelling  is  not  always  correctly  rendered,  and  that  it  is 
worth  something  to  get  even  a  glimpse  of  orthography  at 
and  soon  after  the  great  dramatist's  time : — 


Good  frend  for  Iesvs  sake  forbeare, 
to  digs  the  dvst  en'cloased  heahe  : 
Blest  be  ye  man  yt  spares  thes  stones, 
and  cvkst  be  he  yt  moves  mt  bones. 


It  is  another  well-known  fact  that  Shakspeare's  wife, 
daughter,  grand-daughter,  and  relatives  by  marriage,  lie 
under  other  flat  slabs  by  the  side  of  the  poet ;  but  enough 
to  dwell  (if  not  to  stand)  upon  the  one  stone,  connected 
with  the  sepulture  of  the  man  best  heard  of  and  best 
appreciated  of  all  mere  mortals — a  tomb  at  which,  more 
forcibly  than  at  any  other,  comes  into  reverent  thought 
those  marvelously-pregnant  hero-worship  lines  of  Halleck  : 

"  Sach  spots  as  these  are  pilgrim  shrines— 
Shrine-s  to  no  creed  or  code  confined ; 
The  Delphian  Vales,  the  Palestines, 
The  Meccas  of  the  mind." 


STRATFORD    AND     CHARLECOTE.     287 

It  is  good  to  stand  in  such  a  place,  as  It  was  to  stand  in 
the  birth-chamber — to  measure  thus,  so  far  as  they  can  be 
measured,  the  two  ends  of  a  brief  life-journey  moulding 
the  world  of  mind,  and  consequently  affecting  the  temporal 
and  eternal  interests  of  all  humanity,  as  they  have  never 
been  affected  by  any  other  one  life  since  that  of  Christ ! 
And  on  that  spot,  standing  reverently  with  uncovered  head, 
the  thought  came  to  me  more  forcibly  than  ever  elsewhere, 
so  that  for  the  first  time  I  felt  almost  wi'onged  in  not  being 
able  to  solve  it : — Is  all  this  world-pilgrimage  to  the  shrine 
of  his  burial,  open  to  the  eyes  of  the  sleeper  of  two  and  a 
half  centuries,  or  hidden  from  them  ?  Does  he  know  how 
great  his  name  is  upon  earth  ? — he  who  may  be  to-day 
greatest  among  the  great  in  another  sphere,  or  least  among 
the  least !  Does  he  know  what  Hamlet,  and  Jacques,  and 
Mercutio,  and  Juliet,  and  Imogen,  and  Beatrice  are  to  us — 
how  the  world  would  be  blank  if  they  left  it,  even  as  it  would 
be  blank  if  we  buried  so  many  of  our  personally  dear  ones  ? 
Or  is  it  aU  a  shadow,  a  blindness,  a  deafiiess,  a  mystery, 
even  to  him,  only  to  be  cleared  when  all  the  eternal  secrets 
are  made  known  ?  Methinks  the  mind  that  wove  Ham- 
let's soliloquies  and  deposed  Richard's  meditations,  might 
almost  have  speculated  thus  over  another,  if  it  could  have 
found  another  worthy  of  the  speculation ;  but  the  answer 
would  have  been  denied,  then,  even  as  it  is  denied  to-day. 

It  is  immediately  at  the  left  of  the  tomb,  in  the  side-wall, 
that  the  celebrated  bust-monument  is  imbedded — a  very 
creditable  bit  of  work  in  soft  freestone ;  the  face  a  some- 
what round  and  jolly  one,  large  eyed,  curled  moustached, 
and  high  foreheaded  like  all  the  others ;  the  figure  merely 
a  bust,  with  the  hands  resting  on  a  cushion,  one  holding 
the  pen,  and  the  other  resting  on  an  open  scroll;  this 
within  a  deep  round  arch,  between  two  small  corinthian 
columns;  and  over  it  a  figure-supported,  death's-head- 
crowned  hatchment,  on  a  broad  entablature,  bearing  the 
13 


288  PARIS   IN    '67. 

Shakspeare  arms  of  a  tilting-spcar  in  saltire,  cross-crosslets 
fitchee,  and  a  hawk  holding  a  tilting-spear  as  crest.  At 
the  base  of  the  figure,  on  a  broad  black  tablet,  is  the 
inscription,  somewhat  known  but  by  no  means  hackneyed 
to  the  extent  of  that  on  the  burial  slab : — 


Jumcio  PuLiuM,  Genio  Socratem,  Arte  Maronem, 
Terra  Tegit,  Populus  Mceret,  Olympus  Habet. 

Stay,  passenger  •  why  goest  thou  by  so  fast, 
Read,  if  thou  canst,  whom  envious  death  hath  plast 
Within  this  monument,  Sliakspearc,  withom 
Quick  nature  dide ;  wliose  name  doth  deck  ys  tombe 
Far  more  than  cost ;  syth  all  jt  he  hath  wi'itt 
Leaves  living  art  but  page  to  serve  his  witt. 
Obiit.  Ano.  Doi.  1616.     Etatis  53.  Die  23.  Ap. 


The  great  in  worldly  power  are  little  beside  genius ;  and 
I  doubt  whether  every  one  who  visits  the  Holy  Trinity 
even  notices  the  fact  that  within  the  chancel  railing,  on 
raised  altar-tombs  are  effigied  Sir  Hugh  Clopton  and  his 
wife,  and  that  Carew,  Earl  of  Totnes,  who  was  once  Lord 
Treasurer  to  Elizabeth — while  the  fine  old  church  is  by  no 
means  deficient  in  other  mourning  memorials  that  would 
be  effective  and  pleasing  elsewhere. 

The  birth  and  burial  records  of  Shakspeare  are  very 
carefully  locked  and  guarded  in  the  vestry — a  room  of  no 
special  mark  at  the  right,  passing  back  towai'd  the  chan- 
cel. The  locks  seem  to  be  needed,  for  even  with  all  this 
precaution  bits  of  the  registry-book  have  been  snipped 
away  by  mad  curiosity-hunters !  This  book  is  long,  nar- 
row, parchment-bound,  and  looks  its  age ;  and  on  two  of 
the  leaves,  at  some  distance  apart,  stand  the  records  of  the 
christening:  "  26th  April  1563,  Gulielmus,  til ius  Johannes 
Shakspeare  XXX ;"  and  the  burial:  "April  25th,  1616, 


STRATFORD    AND     CRARLECOTE.    289 

William  Shakspeare,  gentleman."  There  is  also  in  the 
chancel  what  has  been  a  fine  old  font,  of  the  usual  vase- 
shape,  but  now  broken  and  defaced — believed  to  have  been 
in  existence  in  Shakspeare's  time,  and  very  probably  that 
from  which  he  was  christened.  At  least  we  were  all  will- 
ing to  believe  so,  that  day  when  the  too-hasty  hour  at  the 
Church  of  the  Holy  Triuity  came  to  an  end,  and  we  wan- 
dered down,  in  the  golden  sunset  light,  to  sit  on  the  lower 
of  the  two  bridges  over  the  little  Avon,  see  the  willows 
bending  down  lovingly  to  the  stream,  mark  the  exquisite 
rurality  of  the  whole  scene,  and  hear  the  soft  lap  and  swirl 
of  the  water  blending  with  the  voices  of  children  at  their 
play. 

That  was  a  pleasant  evening  by  the  Avon-side ;  and  it 
is  from  some  of  the  observations  then  made  that  I  am 
induced  to  set  down  a  somewhat  startling  fact  and  make  a 
more  startling  suggestion.  There  are  prettier  children 
about  Stratford,  and  the  female  portion  seem  to  have  the 
faculty  of  growing  up  into  prettier  girls,  than  I  have  seen 
anywhere  else  in  England.  Have  the  Shakspeariau 
memories  anything  whatever  to  do  with  this  ?  Do  people 
grow  handsomer,  as  a  race,  by  being  surrounde.d  with 
romantic  and  notable  influences  ? — or  do  more  handsome 
people  visit  Stratford  than  other  places,  and  leave  behind 
them  some  tangible  recollection  of  their  presence  ? 

I  wish  that  I  could  "talk  Warwickshire,"  or  write  it — 
then  would  I  tell  precisely  the  words  in  the  which  the 
di'iver  of  our  open  fly  {^''Pourquoi  '  fly'  ?"  enquired  Anna 
Maria,  "  seeing  that  the  clumsy  thing  rather  creeps  than 
goes  on  wings !") — in  which  the  driver,  I  say,  of  the  open 
fly  which  was  bearing  us  through  the  most  lovely  shaded 
rural  scenery  imaginable,  by  Tiddington  and  Haverston 
(little  old  thatched-cottage  villages  both)  towards  Leam- 
ington— demonstrated  most  conclusively  to  me  (I  wonder 
whether   any   one   can   ever   read   and   understand    this 


290  PARIS    IN    '67. 

unpardonable  sentence!)  that  it  was  utterly  impossible, 
now-a-days,  to  gain  entrance  to  Charlecote  Hall,  as  the 
family  of  Mr.  Lucy  were  at  home,  and  the  place  had  not 
been  "  shown  "  to  visitors  for  a  number  of  years.  I  can- 
not remember  his  precise  language  ;  but  I  can  remember 
mine,  when  he  drove  past  the  practicable  entrance-gate 
leading  into  those  magnificent  wide  lawns,  emerald  green, 
with  the  mightiest  of  old  oaks,  elms  and  beeches  studding 
them,  and  dozens  of  red  and  spotted  deer  trooping  or  ly- 
ing beneath  the  shades  of  what  I  certainly  think  one  of 
the  most  glorious  parks  that  I  have  ever  seen  in  any  land — 
the  property  of  king,  noble,  or  commoner.  There  was  a 
gate,  at  the  spot  where  he  vouchsafed  to  halt  us — a  very 
handsome  large  double  gate  of  ornamental  iron,  fast-locked 
between  two  massive  stone  posts  crowned  with  one  of  the 
cognizances  of  the  Lucys — the  boar's-head,  if  I  do  not 
misremember — while  at  the  end  of  a  long,  handsomely- 
shaded  avenue,  rose  Charlecote  Hall  itself,  the  very  ideal 
of  the  dwelling  of  an  English  country-gentleman  of  long 
descent  and  independent  means  —  a  solid,  substantial 
building,  Elizabethan  in  its  general  appearance,  but  with 
many  clustered  chimneys  and  Byzantine-topped,  corner 
turrets,  and  just  enough  of  the  ivy  commencing  to  creep 
over  it  to  add  a  dash  of  the  venerable  to  the  comfortable. 

No  matter  what  were  the  words  with  which  I  "  induced  " 
the  driver  to  take  his  way  back  to  the  humbler  gate  which 
was  not  locked — he  protesting  all  the  while  that  there  was 
"  no  use  attempting  to  get  into  Shawlcut"  (the  local  pronun- 
ciation of  the  word)  ;  nor  how  the  Captain  and  Anna 
Maria  joined  him  in  believing  that  I  was  wasting  time, 
and  declared  that  "  they  did  not  care  to  go  into  it,  any 
how ;"  nor  how  the  driver  stared  and  the  two  indif- 
ferents  presented  a  very  different  aspect,  when  some 
singular  open  sesa;7ie,  of  which  there  is  no  occasion  to  give 
an  accomit  (at  least  it  was  not  bribery),  produced  a  very 


STRATFORD    A^D     CHARLECOTE.     291 

kind  order  from  Mr.  Lucy  to  have  us  shown  through  the 
Hall,  and  sent  the  well-trained  butler,  early  squeezed  into 
his  black  coat  for  the  purpose,  to  do  the  honors  of 
exhibition. 

Blessed  among  the  gentry  of  England  are  the  Lucys  of 
Charlecote,  whether  Shakspeare  did  kill  deer  lawlessly  in 
that  noble  park  and  find  arraignment  in  that  fine  old 
baronial  hall,  or  not — whether  the  good  though  perhaps 
severe  Sir  Thomas  of  that  day  was  or  was  not  lampooned 
by  the  poet,  and  afterwards  caricatured  as  Justice  Shallow 
by  the  poet  fledged  to  be  the  di-amatist.  For  noble  as  is 
Charlecote  Park  (and  I  really  would  not  trade  it  for  that 
of  Windsor,  as  site  for  a  residence),  Charlecote  Hall  is 
quite  its  equal  in  every  detail  of  stately  luxury.  The 
vaulted  great-hall  (where  Shakspeare  is  said  to  have  been 
arraigned)  is  in  the  most  perfect  of  mediaeval  taste,  with 
its  immense  space,  high  vaulted  ceilings  and  wealth  of 
windows  giving  it  almost  the  brightness  of  the  outer  air, 
— and  with  a  staircase  noble  enough  for  that  of  a  royal 
palace,  leading  away  to  the  upper  apartments;  the  bil- 
liard-room, next  entered,  is  in  equally  excellent  taste  in 
erection  and  furnishing,  while  a  billiard-table  upon  which 
Og,  King  of  Bashan,  might  have  caromed  with  some  of  his 
brother  giants,  occupies  the  centre  of  the  apartment;  in 
the  drawing-room  there  are  enough  of  ver}^  gems  in  pic- 
tures, originals  of  moderate  size,  by  the  very  best  of  the 
old  Italian,  Flemish  and  Spanish  masters,  with  a  few 
modern  ones  to  give  them  light  and  variety — literally  to 
supply  a  "  King's  ransom,"  and  to  give  assui-ance  of  the 
taste  which  must  preside  throughout;  in  the  dining- 
room  (as  also  in  the  great-hall)  are  some  of  the  finest 
specimens  of  carving  in  English  oak,  modern  and  mediae- 
val, that  the  whole  island  can  supply ;  and  in  the  library 
— but  the  library  must  have  a  paragraph  of  its  own  ;  for 
are  not  libraries  and  their  contents  (always  excepting  the 


292  PARIS    IN    '67. 

works  of  the  present   writer)  above  all   other  things  in 
intrinsic  value  ? 

Like  every  other  portion  of  the  house  which  comes 
under  the  eye  of  the  favored  visitor,  this  library  is  perfect 
in  furniture  and  appointments,  and  displays  the  pikes 
(or  luces)  of  the  Lucy  arms  liberally ;  and  scarcely  even 
Sir  Walter,  at  Abbottsford,  possessed  one  so  charmingly 
located.  The  gentle,  winding,  shaded  Avon  flows  almost 
beneath  the  windows  and  is  reached  by  a  flight  of 
stone  steps  leading  down  to  a  handsome  tiny  pier  for 
boat-service — much  more  like  those  beautiful  fancies  of 
the  sort,  so  uncommon  in  the  actual  world  but  so  fa- 
miliar on  theatre-drops,  than  anything  else  that  I  have 
ever  seen  ;  its  wealth  of  books  in  their  carved,  oaken  book- 
cases, comprise  nearly  all  ages  and  all  languages — certainly 
a  collection  to  enrapture  a  book-worm  and  bewilder  a 
house-maid  entrusted  w'ith  their  dusting  and  re-arrang- 
ment ;  and  I  suppose  that  there  is  scarcely  wealth  enough 
in  Warwickshire  to  buy  away  from  its  place  of  honor  one 
peculiar  feature  of  that  apartment.  This  is  nothing 
more  nor  less  than  a  suite  of  furniture  in  ebony,  with  the 
most  elaborate  ornamentation  in  sea-horse-tooth  ivory 
inlaying,  that  would  seem  to  have  consumed  a  life-time  or 
two  in  preparation ;  but  beautiful  as  is  the  suite  of  itself, 
how  much  are  its  interest  and  value  added  to  when  it  is 
known  that  it  is  the  same  presented  to  the  Earl  of  Leices- 
ter, at  Keuilworth,  by  Queen  Elizabeth,  at  that  veiy 
more-th  an -regal  reception  of  a  royal  guest,  of  which  we 
almost  seemed  to  feel  the  atmosphere  yet  hanging  round 
the  banqueting-hall  windows  of  that  magnificent  ruin ! 
There  may  be  more  interesting  relics  of  long-gone  days, 
stored  away  in  some  of  the  feudal  palaces  of  England; 
but  I  should  be  proud  to  own  this  and  scarcely  enquire 
after  any  single  rival — just  as,  I  think,  if  I  owned  Charle- 
cote,  I  should  be  likely  to  eschew  the  American  vice  of 


STRATFORD    AYD     CEARLECOTE.     293 

removal  and  think  that  I  had  mastered  that  comprehen- 
sive word — home. 

Perhaps  I  have  been  expansive  and  enthusiastic  over 
Charlecote — I  fancy  that  I  have  been ;  for  though  I  ex- 
pected much,  I  found  more — one  of  the  handsomest  and 
best-appointed  residences  "  within  the  four  seas  that  girt 
Britam."  This  is  worthy  even  of  the  connection  of  Shak- 
speare's  name  ! — so  I  said  and  repeated  again  and  again  as 
we  rolled  regretfully  away  by  handsome  little  Charlecote 
Church,  an  appanage  of  the  manor,  over  the  delicious  roads 
and  through  the  soft  meadows  and  shaded  lanes,  by  the 
quaint  half-old  half-modern  hamlet  of  Harford  ;  rumbled 
through  Warwick  with  farewell  glimpses  of  the  Castle, 
the  Avon,  striped  Leicester's  Hospital,  and  the  bears-and. 
ragged-staves  ;  and  brought  up  at  last,  drinking  endurable 
iodine-water  and  looking  out  once  more  for  places  in  a 
railway-carriage,  at  clean-looking,  stylish,  ultra-genteel, 
yellow-freestone-y,  large-named,  "  Parade  "-studded,  Sara- 
toga-ish  and  yet  altogether  indescribable  Leamington  Spa. 


XXIV. 
HYDE    PARK    AND    PARLIAMENT. 

When  I  was  "doing  London,"  in  1865,  the  government 
had  just  been  defeated,  and  "gone  to  the  country  "  in  more 
senses  than  one  ;  consequently  I  lost  both  Park  and  Par- 
liament, except  the  empty  chambers  of  the  latter,  for  the 
"  season  "  was  over.  This  year  I  have  had  both,  in  rare 
perfection,  however  briefly — the  time  the  close  of  June, 
with  the  weather  borrowed  from  Italy,  as  it  seemed,  for 
my  special  accommodation ;  all  the  world  in  town,  and 
using  the  unwontedly  clear  atmosphere  to  make  themselves 
the  most  magnificent  of  shows ;  and  parliament  busy  at  what 
then  seemed  the  intermmable  "  Representation  of  the 
People's  Bill " — the  "  Reform  Bill,"  to  put  it  more  intelli- 
gibly. I  had  previously  seen  London  pretty  thoroughly, 
but  missed  those  two  aspects ;  and  here  opens  a  theme 
worthy  of  long  elaboration,  and  yet  one  that  can  only 
be  dealt  with  in  a  few  sentences. 

To  an  American,  the  British  Houses  of  Parliament 
(Westminster  Palace)  are  nobler  and  handsomer,  without, 
than  they  seem  to  be  held  by  the  English  people,  who 
make  an  affectation  of  considering  them  gingerbready, 
tawdry,  and  in  bad  taste.  If  they  are  in  bad  taste,  let  us 
have  a  little  more  of  that  execrable  commodity  on  both 
sides  of  the  Atlantic,  and  at  an  early  period  !  But  within, 
and  considered  as  halls  of  legislation,  the  two  chambers 
make  about  the  same  impression  on  the  mind  of  any  west- 


EYDE    PARK    AKD    PARLIAMENT.   295 

em  man,  used  to  plenty  of  room  and  any  quantity  of  lobby, 
that  might  be  produced  by  offering  the  most  elegant  of 
bandboxes  to  a  man  looking  after  a  cart.  The  Lords' 
Chamber  is  handsome  enough,  though  by  no  means  to  be 
compared  with  half  a  dozen  of  the  State  Senate  chambers 
of  the  United  States,  except  in  the  gilded  throne  (com- 
monly kept  vigorously  covered),  and  a  few  other  details 
of  decoration  ;  and  in  commodiousness,  and  one  would  think 
even  in  comfort,  neither  that  nor  the  Commons'  is  to  be 
named  beside  the  least  notable  of  ours,  much  more  beside 
those  immense  but  very  comfortable  and  really  elegant 
arenas  for  the  fighting  of  the  national  battle  over  the  nigger, 
siipplying  room  to  speak  and  abundant  space  to  hear,  and 
known  as  the  Congressional  Chambers  at  Washington. 
Not  a  seat  in  either  of  the  English  chambers  has  any 
special  comfort ;  not  one  has  any  facility  for  scribbling 
even  a  word  of  note,  except  on  the  knee,  in  a  book  of 
tablets,  or  on  the  cro^vn  of  the  ever-present  hat.  And  as 
to  lobby  accommodation,  let  it  be  briefly  said  that  in  the 
Lords'  there  is  none  except  a  single  row  of  screened  seats 
around  the  gallery,  the  whole  of  which  might  accommodate 
fifty  or  seventy-five,  and  a  few  "  stalls  "  for  the  royal  family 
and  more  favored  of  the  nobility — not  even  the  commonest 
of  them  attainable  by  a  stranger,  except  through  the  per- 
sonal introduction  of  a  "Xoble  Loi-d,"  or  the  use  of  a  com- 
plimentary Legation  ticket.  To  the  Commons,  the  access 
is  a  little  more  liberal,  though  even  there  the  accommoda- 
tion is  something  worse  than  that  provided  in  the  Xew 
York  Aldermanic  Chamber,  and  the  entree  only  to  be  pro- 
cured through  favoritism.  The  whole  arrangement  is,  to 
my  fancy,  mean,  petty,  ridiculously  exclusive,  and  entirely 
unworthy  the  chief  deliberative  bodies  of  a  great  nation  ; 
and  though  the  Governor  is  proverbially  not  the  easiest  of 
men  to  keep  on  the  outside  of  any  place  which  he  sets  his 
mind  upon  entering,  both  he  and  the  Captain,  in  the  pres- 
13* 


296  PARIS    I  IT    '6  7. 

ent  instance,  might  have  found  themselves  vigorously 
excluded  but  for  the  courtesy  of  Mr.  Benjamin  Moran, 
Secretary  (and  \vheel-horse)  of  the  American  Legation,  to 
whose  hard-working  usefulness  in  his  sphere  I  have  before 
taken  occasion  to  refer. 

But,  different  as  the  Parliamentary  Chambers  may  be 
from  American  preconception,  they  present  nothing  in  the 
way  of  wonder  comparable  to  that  really  mightiest  body 
of  legislators  in  the  loorld.,  the  Lords  and  Commons  of 
England  themselves.  Good-looking  men  enough,  and 
possibly  a  shade  better-looking,  or  at  least  healthier  and 
less  nervous-looking,  than  the  average  of  American  Con- 
gressmen, they  are  by  no  means  the  Adonises  or  types  of 
physical  perfection  that  they  are  usually  called  by  Jenkins 
and  his  tribe.  And  they  have  no  special  dignity  of  de- 
meanor to  throw  them  into  better  relief;  in  fact,  they  may 
be  said  to  have  the  very  opposite.  It  is  not  to  be  de- 
nied that  in  the  Lords  there  are  many  fine  faces,  some 
eminently  handsome  and  high-bred  ones  (perhaps  the 
Duke  of  Argyle's  the  clearest-cut  of  all),  and  not  a  few 
venerable  heads ;  and  that  especially  around  the  members 
of  that  body  there  is  woven  an  indescribable  something, 
which  tells  that  they  are  al$o  members  of  good  society  ;  but 
when  that  is  said,  nearly  all  is  told.  They  are  (I  don't  mean 
to  be  irreverent)  old  fogyish  and  lumpish-looking,  sitting 
with  hat  on  head  (I  believe  that  is  a  point  of  conscience 
with  an  English  peer  in  his  official  seat,  as  it  is  with  our 
Hebrew  brethren  when  they  bear  testimony),  and  convey- 
ing the  impression  of  considering  it  a  favor  to  the  world 
that  they  deign  to  legislate  at  all.  There  are  orators 
among  them,  too,  orators  in  the  English  sense ;  and  there 
are  wise  lawgivers — who  doubts  the  fact?  They  are 
something  to  respect,  in  a  certain  sense  even  to  venerate, 
but  scarcely  to  admire,  at  least  from  our  western  point  of 
view. 


EYDE    PARK    AXD    PARLIAMENT.   297 

The  Commons  are  the  younger,  less-refined,  and  less- 
respectable  lords.  Wearing  the  hat  seems  optional  with 
them,  though  it  predominates.  The  Speaker  presides  ■with- 
out any  marked  dignity,  and  the  members  comport  them- 
selves without  any  pretense  to  that  quality.  They  stand, 
sit,  go  out  frequently,  and  return  as  frequently — Speaker 
and  members  suggesting  nothing  more  orderly  than,  say, 
a  meeting  of  an  American  Chamber  of  Commerce  for  some 
informal  object,  in  which  the  members  "  talk  "  and  do  not 
"speak" — instead  of  the  popular  and  money- supplying 
body  of  the  mightiest  of  European  nations.  They  cheer, 
and  "hear!  hear,"  a  favorite  speaker;  bray,  crow,  "Oh! 
oh!"  and  cough  down  an  obnoxious  one,  long  before  they 
have  heard  what  he  intends  to  say.  Their  best  speakers 
are  able  ones,  beyond  a  doubt,  acute  in  argument,  accu- 
rate in  practical  education,  strong  in  ratiocination ;  but  the 
best  of  the  best,  the  John  Brights,  the  William  Ewart 
Gladstones,  the  Benjamin  Disraelis  (all  of  whom  seemed  to 
be  first  or  last  on  foot  during  our  day),  are  not  orators  in 
the  American  understanding  of  the  term.  They  are  wo- 
fully  unimpassioned,  and  seem  to  lack  the  trick  of  earnest ; 
they  seldom  gesticulate,  and  they  "  ah — ah  !"  and  drawl  too 
much,  keeping  eager  ears  waiting  for  their  words,  and 
seeming  to  have  forgotten  the  exact  expressions  intended 
to  be  used,  or  not  quite  made  up  their  minds  as  to  the  best 
of  certain  choosing- words.  The  fact  may  be  stated  in  brief, 
that  however  the  leading  speakers  of  the  British  Parlia- 
ment may  command  the  respect  of  the  world  by  the  results 
of  their  labors,  and  however  much  they  may  be  able  to 
move  English  hearers  and  English  constituencies  by  their 
action  and  their  speech,  such  speech  would  move  the 
sharper,  quicker,  higher-seasoned  American  ear  and  taste 
not  much  more  than  a  child's  whisper  in  a  whirlwind. 

I  have  not  been  very  enthusiastic,  any  more  than  very 
thorough,  in  dealing  with  Parliament:    true.      Now  to 


293  PARIS   IN   '67. 

atone,  by  being  quite  as  hurried  and  unsatisfactory  with 
reference  to  the  Park — Hyde  Park,  specially,  I  mean,  and 
that  peculiarly  because  it  is  there  that  at  certain  hours  of 
the  afternoon  and  approaching  evening,  Parliament  "  risen  " 
and  all  the  other  details  of  fashionable  life  subordinated  to 
the  great  event,  the  nobility,  the  "  style,"  the  beauty  and 
the  arrogant  pretension  of  England  gather  and  pass  in  re- 
view, as  nowhere  else  on  the  odd,  matchless  little  island. 

Wonderful  are  the  vehicles  standing  in  Parliament- 
yard  for  an  hour  before  the  "  rising " — waiting  for  the 
Peers  and  the  more  notable  M.  P.'s  to  come  out  and  be 
whirled  away.  Wonderftil  in  the  excellence  and  style  of 
matched-horses  (though  in  that  regard  they  do  not  overtop 
the  fashion  of  the  American  commercial  and  social  metropo- 
lis)— wonderful  in  the  perfection  of  carriage,  harness,  and  ap- 
pointments—wonderful in  the  liveries  and  the  laughable 
pomposity  of  cockaded  (and  often  matched,  like  the  horses) 
drivers  and  footmen  of  the  open  chariots — wonderful  in  the 
calves  (padded  or  natural)  of  many  of  the  footmen  afore- 
said, and  the  air  oi  knoioing  how  to  he  menials  in  a  preten- 
tious manner^  at  which  they  have  arrived  by  long  practice 
— yet  more  wonderful,  if  possible,  ia  the  wives  or  daughters 
of  notables,  who  have  arrived  at  such  "  exact-science  "  in 
the  art  of  lounging  back  in  the  carriage  while  sometimes 
waiting  there  instead  of  fatiguing  themselves  by  alighting 
and  resuming  their  seats,  that  they  literally  seem  to  lounge 
over  half  the  world  in  the  act,  to  wave  several  scepters  in 
a  diminutive  fan  or  parasol,  and  to  proclaim,  in  even  the 
lift  of  an  eyelid  or  the  wag  of  a  forefinger :  "  Good  nobodies 
"who  look,  I  am  the  Lady  Dash  or  the  Honorable  Mrs.  As- 
terisk— porcelain  to  your  filthy  clay — lilies  and  rose-leaves 
to  your  miserable  ordinary  shrubs.  The  world  is  mine, 
and  the  fullness  thereof;  and  you  ought  to  offer  up  perpetual 
thanksgivings  that  I  self-denyingly  permit  you  to  pollute 
the  same  atmosphere  by  breathing  it." 


HYDE    PARK   AITD    PARLIAMENT.   299 

Is  this  bitter  ?  I  think  not — I  certainly  do  not  intend  it 
to  be  so,  for  the  whole  thing  is  rather  amusing  than  the  re- 
verse— amusing,  because  "  everybody  does  so  "  when  the 
opportunity  offers.  Give  American  ladies  the  same  descent 
(real  or  pretended),  the  same  wealth  and  surroimdings,  and 
they  would  probably  be  even  greater  fools,  as  are  some  of 
them  to-day  without  the  excuse  !  No — no  bitterness,  nor 
even  a  word  of  ill-nature  ;  let  us  secure  the  very  tastiest 
open-carriage  and  liveried  driver  attainable  by  the  disburse- 
ment of  a  couple  of  twin  sovereigns,  go  and  be  as  magnifi- 
cently silly  as  the  silliest,  just  so  far  as  our  own  feeble 
powers  will  allow,  doing  Rotten  Row  and  the  Ladies'  Mile 
of  Hyde  Park  at  say  six  o'clock,  when  the  sun  is  lowering 
towards  the  trees  of  the  West  End  and  yet  lacks  two  hours 
of  its  setting. 

Am  I  about  to  paint  you  Hyde  Park  ?  I  trow  not,  for 
two  reasons — one  that  I  have  never  been  enough  its  habitue 
to  even  fix  its  topographical  divisions ;  tke  other,  that  there 
is  no  occasion.  Understood,  the  splendid  drives  of  the 
southern  edge,  dignified  with  the  undignified  name  ;  given 
a  very  pleasant  June  afternoon,  clear  and  scarcely  oppres- 
sive even  in  the  open  sunshine ;  a  thousand  occupied  carria- 
ges and  five  hundred  horsemen  and  horsewomen ;  all  the 
appointments,  equine  and  vehicular,  unimpeachable  and 
many  of  them  magnificent,  and  the  riders  the  most  notable 
in  rank,  wealth,  and  fashion  that  even  rich,  pretentious,  and 
title-loving  old  England  can  furnish ;  and  required  the 
result ! 

The  result  is  somewhat  too  difficult  for  a  weak  verbal 
arithmetician :  it  might  pu2ale  even  a  stronger.  It  can 
only  be  hinted  at,  not  given.  To  meet,  follow,  or  pass,  for 
miles,  a  constant  succession  of  carriages — nearly  all  open — 
all  tastefully  appointed,  and  nineteen-twentieths  bearing 
coronets  on  their  panels,  or  displaying  as  crest  some  mailed 
arm,  beast,  bird,  fish,  star,  or  mythological  monstrosity  from 


300  PARIS    IN   '67. 

the  wonderful  collection  which  England  has  been  laying 
up  ever  since  the  Battle  of  Hastings — all  the  vehicles  redo- 
lent of  powdered  coachman  and  livei'ied  footman — all  filled 
with  people  whose  recognition  is  distinction  and  who  have 
recognitions  to  give  and  receive  continually — all  moving  at 
a  pace  not  much  faster  than  that  of  an  impeded  funeral,  ow- 
ing to  the  crush,  press,  the  helmeted  policemen  and  un- 
helmeted  proprieties, — to  meet  and  follow  and  pass  through 
all  this,  returning  the  fire  of  such  batteries  of  eyes  as  in- 
evitably rain  shafts  of  blue  lightning  even  on  the  lowliest, 
is  not  the  easiest  of  things  to  do  with  equanimity. 

English  blonde  beauty  is  a  well-understood  entity,  and 
yet  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  there  is  not  considered  to 
be  quite  enough  of  it — else  there  would  scarcely  be  so 
much  seasoning  loith  it  of  homeliness  or  marJced  decadence. 
For  there  really  are  so  many  of  the  lumpier  kind  of 
dowagers  in  those  carriages — so  many,  though  markedly 
fewer,  as  become*  the  climate,  of  the  sallow,  parch menty, 
angular,  old-maidish  ;  and  the  handsomest  of  the  daughters 
of  nobility  are  so  mevitably  sandwiched  among  and  along- 
side them,  that  the  motive  cannot  be  any  thing  else  than 
leavening  the  one  or  foiling  the  other.  Here  and  there, 
to  be  sure,  there  will  be  an  open  carriage  sacred  at  once  to 
Venus  and  Diana — its  occupants  merely  a  cluster  of  high- 
bred, clear-complexioned,  blue-eyed,  blonde-tressed,  baby- 
handed  girls,  the  "  wealthy  curled  darlings  "  of  a  nation 
indeed,  glancing  upon  whom  for  a  moment  one  feels  tem- 
porarily inclined  to  recognize  the  force  of  the  claims  assert- 
ed for  Saxon  beauty  as  among  the  purest  of  types,  and  to 
admit  that  there  is  something  in  generation  after  genera- 
tion of  culture,  ease,  well-instructed  exercise,  and  high- 
breeding.  Such,  I  know,  was  my  own  feeling  at  a  certain 
moment  of  our  "  Park-day,"  when  I  fell  in  love  at  once 
with  the  three  golden-haired  and  violet-eyed  daughters  of 
the  Earl  of (the  crest  on  their  carriage  confirming 


HYDE    PARK    AND    P  A  R  L I A  M  E I^  T .   301 

the  identity),  thereby  abjuring  Lady  Harriet  H ,  sister 

of  Baron ,  whose  long  auburn  curls  and  sweet  brown 

eyes  had  held  me  prisoner  for  the  jDreceding  five  minutes, 
captivated  at  the  same  instant  in  one  of  the  "  crushes  " 
when  Anna  Maria  struck  "  all  of  a  heap  "  the  young  Duke 
of ,  setting  him  galloping  off  out  of  the  press  to  dis- 
cover "  who  "was  the  elegant  creature,  newly  burst  on 
London  society,  whom  he  had  just  seen  riding  with  those 
two  distinguished-looking  middle-aged  persons,  evidently 
foreign  noblemen  if  not  princes  !" 

Let  me  say,  here  and  approvingly,  that  the  English  ladies 
of  condition,  especially  the  young  ladies,  dans  le  x>arc  as 
en  promenade,  do  not  seriously  overdress  and  sink  subordi- 
nate to  their  silks,  velvets,  laces,  and  flowers, — and  that 
the  lesson  might  be  read  elsewhere  with  advantage.  And 
then  I  must  leave  the  carriage-riders,  only  pausing  to  re- 
mark that  the  ladies  do  not  occupy  the  carriages  alone,  but 
that  their  male  companions,  or  the  gentlemen  who  sulk  on 
cushions  without  female  companionship,  are  generally  past 
middle  age,  and  many  of  them  white-headed,  white-side- 
whiskered,  heavy,  and  respectable,  with  a  sprinkling  of 
foreign-looking  persons  (of  the  Diplomatic  Corps,  prob- 
ably) almost  always  riding  alone  and  somewhat  affecting 
covered  carriages,  besides  making  an  un-English  display 
of  orders  in  the  button-hole.  The  young  men  of  England 
do  not  ride  through  the  Park  in  carriages,  as  do  not  a  large 
proportion  of  their  sisters  and  fiances  ;  and  this  brings 
us  to  the  question  of  where  they  are  meanwhile. 

Young  England  as  well  as  much  of  Middle-aged  Eng- 
land, male,  rides  on  horseback  and  rides  splendidly ;  and 
so  does  a  very  large  proportion  of  Young  England,  female. 
Nowhere  else,  except  on  the  himting-field,  is  horseman- 
ship considered  of  as  much  consequence  as  in  the  Pai'k ; 
and  Xed  Sothern  competes  with  the  Prince  of  Wales  for 
supremacy  in  "  park-hacks."     And  at  the  fashionable  hour, 


302  PARIS    IN    '67. 

when  all  the  carriages  are  in  motion,  there  may  be  seen 
such  a  gallant  show  of  equestrians  and  equestriennes^  reined 
up  in  loose  military  order  along  the  Row,  giving  and  re- 
ceiving salutations,  chatting,  occasionally  caracoling,  flirt- 
ing with  whip  and  bridle,  then  breaking  away  into  knots 
and  couples  for  a  trot  or  a  gallojD  along  the  "  Mile  " — as 
cannot  well  be  matched  elsewhere  in  the  healthy  vitality 
and  excellent  horsemanship  which  it  displays.  Ever  and 
anon  at  some  carriage-door  a  horseman  reins  up,  lifts  his 
hat,  pays  a  compliment  or  holds  a  moment's  conversation, 
then  passes  on,  buttertly-like,  to  the  next  flower  that  offers 
the  honey  of  admiration  or  the  wax  of  policy.  Handsome 
and  distinguished-looking  fellows,  many  of  these,  even  if 
they  do  have  the  disadvantage  of  bearing  title  and  posi- 
tion ;  and  thoroughly  in  accord  with  good  horses,  nearly 
all;  just  as  among  the  fixir  equestriennes  may  be  seen 
pretty  faces,  flying  curls,  willowy  figures  (when  the  years 
have  not  been  too  many),  graceful  seat  and  carriage,  and 
an  enviably-excellent  bridle-hand.  A  charming  pendant  to 
the  Park  array,  these  healthier  rivals  of  the  sedentary  and 
the  inert, — even  if  there  should  chance  to  be  among  them 
some  who  ride  too  well,  who  make  too  pronounced  a  dis- 
play in  attitude  and  costume,  and  who  awake  the  suspicion 
if  not  the  certainty  attached  to  the  "pretty  horse-breaker." 
And  if  there  should  even  be  some  of  the  latter,  be  sure 
that  roue  as  well  as  titled  male  England  is  on  horseback, 
and  that  the  balance  of  doubt  will  not  lie  with  the  weaker, 
softer,  vainer,  better  sex ! 

Ah  me  ! — I  thought,  as  we  finally  wheeled  northward  for 
a  less-crowded  drive  through  Regent's  Pai'k  and  around 
the  cheap-romance-celebrated  neighborhood  of  St.  John's 
Wood — ah  me ! — what  a  world  of  youth,  beauty,  rank, 
fortune  and  all  the  advantages,  rides  through  Hyde  Park 
of  a  pleasant  summer-evening ;  and  yet  what  a  task  would 
be  that  of  Asraodeus,  peeping  beneath  the  trees  and  un- 


HYDE    PABK    AND    PARLIAMENT.   303 

roofing  heads  instead  of  houses,  to  discover  how  much  of 
the  youth  and  beauty  was  up  for  bargain  and  sale  in  the 
markets  of  rank,  political  power,  or  necessity — how  many 
comedies  or  even  tragedies  might  be  weaving  along  Rot- 
ten Row  or  the  Ladies'  Mile,  with  plots  wilder  and  more 
complicated  than  those  shown  to  the  public  eye  at  the  New 
Royalty  or  the  Surrey ! 


XXV. 

BETWEEN  FEANCE  AND  ENGLAND. 

"  Twice  told  tales "  may  be  very  good  things  in  the 
hands  of  genius  ;  they  are  by  no  means  inevitably  so  in 
those  of  mediocrity.  Resiilt :  I,  who  have  before  attempted 
to  describe  crossing  the  British  Channel,  with  the  sights, 
sounds,  and  sensations  peculiar  to  that  proceeding,  must 
be  very  chary  of  words  in  dealing  again  with  the  same 
subject.  Yet  with  two  transits  involved  in  the  supple- 
mentary travel  of  1867,  at  least  some  mention  of  incident 
and  observation  seems  inevitable. 

My  crossing  from  Newhaven  to  Dieppe,  early  in  July, 
had  two  or  three  notable  features :  the  first,  that  through 
it  the  Captain,  Anna  Maria,  and  myself,  till  then  a  trio  of 
undiluted  Americanism,  made  the  acquaintance  of  Young 
Hawesby,  Yorkshireman  by  birth,  and  Londoner  by  stu- 
dent matriculation,  who  thenceforth,  so  to  speak,  "hooked 
on,"  and  made  the  combination  Anglo-American — to  the 
pleasure  and  profit  of  all.  Much  the  merrier  and  more  en- 
joyable were  many  after-hours,  for  the  stout-figured,  broad- 
faced,  frank,  conscientious,  jolly  young  English  blending 
of  the  yeoman  and  gentleman,  who  ran  down  with  us  that 
day  from  London  to  Newhaven,  and  took  his  first  little 
"  queerness "  of  the  stomach  and  whitening  of  the  com- 
plexion, under  the  sympathy  of  so  many  of  us  as  had  any 
of  that  article  to  spare.  The  second  notable  feature,  that  I 
at  last  saw  Anna  Maria  in  a  different  aspect  from  any  in 


ON    TEE    CHANNEL.  305 

which  I  had  before  beheld  that  vivacious  lady  :  all  former 
views  had  been  superficial;  but  I  think  I  may  say 
that  on  that  occasion  I  became  acquainted  with  her  other- 
icise  than  externally.  The  thii-d,  that  I  was  thrown  into 
contact  with  Narrowood,  scion  of  the  great  house  that  did 
not  receive  the  first  honors  at  the  Paris  Exposition  for 
the  manufacture  of  hand-orgaus — with  Lizzie,  and  with 
one  other. 

A  calmer  noon,  in  wind  and  sea,  than  that  at  which  we 
stepped  on  board  the  good  iron  paddle-wheeler  Marseille, 
and  steamed  out  of  Newhaven  harbor,  away  from  Beachy 
Head  and  the  "  white  cliffs  "  generally,  for  Dieppe,  need 
not  have  been  prayed  for  by  the  veriest  "  old  woman " 
who  ever  tempted  a  mill-pond.  A  rougher  sea  and  a  stiffer 
gale  than  those  in  which  we  passed  the  last  three  hours  of 
the  run  to  the  French  coast,  need  not  have  been  invoked 
by  the  most  legitimate  descendant  of  the  Vikings.  I  have 
before  essayed  to  describe  the  peculiar  motions  and  sensa- 
tions of  rough  weather  on  the  Channel,  and  shall  not  re- 
peat the  attempt.  The  Marseille — fine  boat  of  English 
build,  and  principally  of  English  management — took  the 
whole  thing  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  made  no  more  com- 
plaint than  a  duck  would  have  done  at  a  little  more  water 
falling  into  his  puddle ;  but  not  so  with  very  many  of  her 
passengers  ! 

The  Governor  (who  feebly  affects  the  "  old  salt ")  pro- 
phesied a  gale  at  Newhaven,  insisted  upon  one  at  mid- 
channel,  and  was  frightenedly-jubilant  when  he  eventually 
found  the  "  boots"  for  which  he  had  been  "looking  under 
the  bed."  The  Captain  had  not  been  so  hilarious  since  he 
left  the  deck  of  his  own  little  steamer,  years  before.  He 
was  as  happy  as  a  retired  pugilist  at  unexpectedly  behold- 
ing a  neat  "  little  mill."  Young  Hawesby  turned  green, 
like  the  sea  which  troubled  him,  but,  spite  of  his  arithmeti- 
cal and  mathematical  education,  had  difficulty  in  "  casting 


306  PARIS    IN    '67. 

up  his  accounts,  though  none  in  making  his  reckoning. 
And  Anna  Maria 

It  is  only  by  degrees  that  we  come  to  the  knowledge  of 
the  real  qualities  of  others.  By  a  chance  word,  Melissa 
arrives  at  the  late  and  painful  certainty  that  Adolphus 
once  "loved  another,"  only  a  dozen  or  two  of  years  before, 
and  that  thenceforth  she  must  be  miserable  during  her 
balance  of  life.  Through  muttered  sentences,  in  dreams, 
Adolphus  discovers  whose  was  the  suspicious  form  watched 
years  before  under  Julia's  window,  and  receives  confirma- 
tion of  his  comfortable  jealousy ;  and  in  like  manner  Banker 
Joseph  betrays  to  ears  that  he  might  not  trust  so  readily 
of  his  own  will,  the  secret  of  dishonored  notes  and  impend- 
ing bankruptcy.  Far  be  it  from  the  present  veracious 
chronicler  to  say  that  Anna  Maria 

That  sentence,  too,  must  be  left  unfinished.  Why  should 
I  indicate  u^hat  revelations  A.  M.  made  in  the  first  desolate 
upheavals  of  a  sea-sickness  defied  on  the  Atlantic  to  be 
met  and  succumbed  to  on  the  Channel  ?  Such  unwilling 
confidences  should  have  the  sacredness  of  intentional  ones, 
with  the  truly  conscientious.  What  if  the  somewhat 
startling  knowledge  did  come  to  the  ears  of  both  the  Cap- 
tain and  the  Governor,  while  A.  M.  lay  supine  but  painfully 
conscious  on  the  shoulder  of  the  latter,  that  she  had  been 
the  cause  of  two  duels  and  a  suicide,  and  was  at  that  mo- 
ment under  three  tacit  engagements  of  marriage,  without 
intending  to  wed  at  all,  unless  she  married  a  fourth?  Were 
not  these  trifling  admissions  accompanied  by  mild  objurga- 
tions of  the  sea,  and  everybody  and  every  thing  connected 
with  it,  placid  requests  to  be  thrown  overboard,  and  other 
symptoms  of — well,  say  derangement.,  without  specifying 
the  locality  of  the  disorder !  And  when  hysterics  came, 
with  two  hours  of  maudlin  laughter,  only  to  be  conquered 
by  enough  nameless  soporific  applications  to  have  drugged 
a  dragoon — who  will  credit  that  she  was  really  laughing  at 


ON    TEE     CHANN'EL.  30V 

the  recollection  of  her  last  oifer  from  an  exquisite  in  tight 
trousers,  who  split  the  knees  of  the  trousers  aforesaid  in 
the  act  of  kneeling,  and  was  obliged  to  receive  his  refusal 
and  vacate  the  room  without  rising  from  that  posture  ! 
All  this,  believing  the  best  of  the  usually-vivacious  but 
temporarily-prostrate  lady,  may  be  thought  of,  but  must 
not  be  told  :  let  the  mantle  of  silence  fall  over  it  in  this 
manner. 

Meanwhile,  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  A.  M.  was  the 
only  female  victim  of  the  lively  Marseille.  Here  and  there 
a  plucky  little  English  woman  "  held  her  own  "  in  the  best 
sense ;  but  almost  all  the  French  and  other  continentals, 
and  most  even  of  the  Britons,  bowed  to  the  fell  destroyer. 
The  worst  of  it  was  that  as  the  wives  and  fiancees  grew 
helpless,  the  husbands  and  lovers  grew  correspondingly 
neglectful,  from  "  causes  oA^er  which  (probal)ly)  they  had 
no  control,"  and  that  most  of  the  females,  consequently, 
one  by  one  fell  prone  on  the  decks  and  seemed  to  be  moan- 
ing away  their  lives,  while  they  were  certainly  exhausting 
vitality  in  a  manner  more  easily  imagined  than  described, 
without  being  even  able  to  raise  the  head  under  so  obvious  a 
necessity !  At  about  six  p.  m.  the  after-deck  of  the  Mar- 
seille presented  the  appearance  of  a  battle-field  of  the 
Amazons,  in  which  the  weapons  had  been  emetics  and  no- 
body victors,  while  finery  was  much  bedraggled  and  be- 
spattered, and  calls  for  unafforded  help  came  chokingly  in 
more  languages  than  ever  entered  the  dreams  of  the 
"Learned  Blacksmith."  Here  a  fat  English  dowager 
calkd  "  John  !"  who  did  not  come,  and  bewailed  her  ever 
trusting  herself  on  that  "  narsty  channel,"  John  (as  I  hap- 
pened to  notice)  being  at  the  moment  fiendishly  sick  over 
an  ineffectually-solacing  glass  of  'arf  and  'arf,  near  the 
cook's  galley;  there  a  young  French  woman,  with  her 
flower-garden  of  bonnet  lying  ruined  in  an  unsavory  pool, 
and    her    black    hair    streaming    wide   amid    all,   called 


308  PARIS    IN    '67. 

"  Aljihonse  !"  and  "  mon  ami !"  with  other  phrases  of  her 
vernacular,  and  declared  her  intention  of  dying  then  and 
there,  in  tones  that  would  have  moved  the  pity  of  any 
lover  not  suffering  under  the  maladle  de  mer ;  and  one 
sharp-nosed  woman  (I  believe  that  she  was  insane  in 
hysterics)  swore,  to  a  degree  horrifying  even  to  the  coarse- 
faced  brute  who  seemed  to  call  her  wife  ;  and  some  bawled 
like  children,  in  mingled  fear  and  suffering ;  and  others 
merely  moaned,  being  beyond  fear  and  in  hopeless  suffer- 
ing only ;  and  the  Governor — 

Nobody  has  ever  accused  the  Governor,  I  think,  of  do- 
ing many  benevolent  or  many  useful  things ;  perhaps  he 
would  not  have  done  either,  on  that  occasion,  but  for  a  sort 
of  defiant  propensity  to  swim  up-stream  whenever  he  can 
catch  the  tendency  of  the  tide.  But  whatever  the  motive, 
it  is  worth  noting  that  the  official  actually  amused  himself 
by  going  around  to  the  neglected  females  on  the  after-deck, 
when  Anna  Maria  had  been  at  last  disposed  of, — lifting  up 
the  head  of  each,  for  an  indefinite  period  (think  of  this  be- 
ing done  without  an  introduction  !)  and  then  laying  each 
down  again  and  passing  on  to  the  next.  How  many  quasi 
embraces  he  achieved  in  this  manner,  or  what  were  the 
sensations  which  thrilled  his  "manly  bosom"  while  so  ad- 
mitted to  the  more  delicate  confidences  of  womanhood,  who 
shall  dare  to  calculate  ? 

Meanwhile  Lizzie  stood  much  of  the  time  at  the  after- 
companion-way,  or  on  the  steps  thereof,  sometimes  holding 
on  to  the  rail  and  at  others  not  even  taking  that  precaution, 
— her  jaunty  short  red  dress  prettily  supplemented  by  the 
neat  ankles  and  trim  high  boots  showing  beneath,  and  her 
half-laughing  girlish-face,  under  her  natty  ribboned  tar- 
paulin, at  once  one  of  the  sweetest  and  most  melancholy 
things  that  I  ever  saw,  taking  all  the  circumstances  into 
consideration.  For  Lizzie  was  not  alone—  oh,  how  much 
better  had  she  been  ! — how  much  better  had  she  been  the 


ON    THE    CHANNEL.  309 

loneliest  poor  soul  on  earth,  than  what  she  too  evidently 
"svas  :  the  despised,  disregarded,  ill-treated  girl-mistress  and 
plaything  of  a  wealthy  drunkard  and  brute !  The  brute 
was  Na'rrowood,  of  the  red  whiskers  and  the  brandy-flushed 
face  that  had  once  been  wholesome-looking  enough  though 
never  manly — ^jubilant-drunk  over  his  tin  medal  for  hand- 
organs,  at  the  Exposition,  and  going  to  some  one  of  the 
French  ports  to  resume  his  yacht.  He  had  a  dog  with  him, 
collared  and  chained,  and  carried  the  chain  in  his  hand. 
Between  his  rapid  repetition  of  drinks  and  his  running 
against  and  half  insulting  passengers,  he  sometimes  drunk- 
enly  caressed  the  dog,  the  more  valued  of  his  two  "  prop- 
erties ;"  but  when  poor  Lizzie  would  presume  to  lay  her 
hand  on  his  arm,  ashamed  to  see  him  so  disgracing  human- 
ity, and  say  :  "  Oh,  don't ! — please  don't,  Chris. ! — you 
mustn't  do  that,  you  know  !" — then  the  beast  would  snap 
at  her  like  the  cowardly  cur  that  he  was,  and  tell  her  to 

"  hold  her  d d  jaw!"  and  "get  out  of  the  way  !"  and 

more  than  once  pushed  her  rudely  from  him ;  while  she, 
poor,  fallen,  and  lost,  and  not  even  quite  sober,  though  so 
far  above  him — would  shrink  back  and  look  at  him  so 
sadly  and  humbly  and  pleadingly  that  the  heart  which  did 
not  bleed  for  her  must  have  been  either  very  hard  or — very 
full  of  the  precepts  of  "  modern  Christianity." 

Lizzie  (I  heard  the  brute  call  her  name,  in  his  tipsy  way) 
was  French,  I  think,  by  birth  ;  and  had  evidently  been 
made  a  victim  by  the  rich  English  roue  so  fast  turning  in- 
to the  drunkard,  while  in  the  ignorant  and  defenseless 
school-girl  period.  Indeed,  she  was  not  far  past  it  at  the 
moment  when  I  saw  her ;  and  the  face  as  plainly  told  of 
natural  goodness  as  natural  want  of  defensive  strength. 
She  had  been  tempted  by  something  that  seemed  above 
her  in  wealth  and  station  ;  she  had  fallen,  even  into  some 
of  the  bad  habits  of  her  betrayer;  but  she  was  not  all  cor- 
rupted, even  yet ;  and  oh,  what  a  penalty  she  was  paying ! 


310  PARIS    IN    '67. 

To  be  lost  from  the  path  and  hope  of  womanhood,  was 
quite  enough,  one  would  have  thought ;  but  to  be  lost  for 
such  a  thing  as  that ! — to  be  less  than  his  dog  to  something 
less  than  a  dog ! 

More  than  once,  during  the  early  part  of  the  run,  I  saw 
a  tall,  dark-haired  and  brown-coraplexioned  man,  whom  I 
believed  to  be  an  American,  but  without  being  quite  sui'e 
of  the  fact,  watching  the  two  and  their  relations,  with  evi- 
dently no  good-wiU  in  his  face  towards  the  oflfensive 
Nabob  of  hand-organs.  Once,  later,  when  the  sea  was 
very  heavy,  I  saw  him  approach  the  young  girl  as  she  stood 
heedlessly  at  the  companion-way,  and  heard  him  address 
her  with  a  most  respectful  warning,  accompanied  by  a 
bowing  lift  of  the  hat  that  could  not  have  been  more  pro- 
found before  the  highest  lady  in  any  land — begging  her  to 
be  a  little  more  careful  of  her  hold  and  footing,  or  she 
might  chance  to  take  an  awkward  tumble.  She  thanked 
him,  in  good  English  but  with  a  French  jxctois,  though  re- 
marking that  she  was  an  old  sailor,  and  scarcely  adopting 
his  suggestion.  And  at  that  moment,  just  as  I  had  decided 
from  the  voice  and  manner  that  this  man  was  an  Ameri- 
can, Narrowood  stumbled  up  the  steps,  leering  drunkenly 
and  drasrsrinoc  his  dosf, — saw  the  two  in  conversation  and 
perhaps  heard  that  they  were  speaking,  and  pushed  Lizzie 
out  of  the  way  with  the  customary  oath.  I  saw  the  brow 
of  the  American  darken  a  little  dangerously,  as  be  turned 
away  ;  but  that  was  all. 

We  were  nearing  Dieppe,  and  smoothing  our  water  by 
coming  under  the  lee  of  the  French  coast ;  and  people  who 
had  recovered  strength  enough  were  getting  out  the  small 
baggage  that  had  been  temporarily  carried  below  to  keep 
it  from  the  rain.  The  American,  coming  up  with  a  travel- 
ing-bag and  stout  stick,  met  Narrowood  at  the  head  of 
the  stair,  and  the  latter  drunkenly  jostled  against  him.  I 
saw  his  hand  grip  and  then  relax,  as  if  he  so  wanted  to  an- 


ON    THE    CHANNEL.  311 

nihilate  the  beast  but  lacked  excuse  and  Ts*as  not  quite  clear 
as  to  the  duty.  Just  then  a  drunken  gleam  of  recollection 
seemed  to  go  over  the  face  of  Narrowood,  and  he  ac- 
costed the  American  with  offensive  familiarity,  slapping  the 
latter's  stick  two  or  three  times  with  his  own,  to  give  his 
remark  point  :  "  Humph  I  you  ai'e  the  man  that  talks  to 
other  people's  women,  are  you !" — "  I  am  the  man  that  do  not 
talk  to  you,  at  all  events !"  I  heard  the  American  reply, 
hoarsely  and  evidently  controlling  himself  by  an  effort. 
"  Oh,  I  see — a  d — d  Yankee,  with  your  airs  ! — pretty  stock 
of  pirates,  you  are !"  was  the  response  of  the  Englishman. 
In  half  a  minute  thereafter,  I  think  he  was  the  worst- 
frightened  man  I  ever  saw,  as  he  would  certainly  have 
been  the  worst  punished  had  not  poor  Lizzie  rushed  be- 
tween, and  with  her  pleading  eyes  and  broken  appealing 
speech  sheltered  him  who  deserved  that  mercy  so  little. 
The  American  sprang  toward  Narrowood,  then  checked 
himself  as  the  slight  form  came  between  with  its:  "  Oh, 
Monsieur! — pray  don't!  Oh,  Chris!  Chris  I"  and  the 
drunken  beast  staggered  backward.  But  if  the  threaten- 
ing hand  was  checked  the  tongue  was  not,  and  I  have  never 
before  heard  such  a  sermon  in  a  few  words  as  came  from 
his  angry  lips  at  the  next  instant,  albeit  some  of  the  ex- 
pressions were  by  no  means  canonical.  Half  the  passen- 
gers heard  it,  I  think,  and  sympathized  in  the  righteous  in- 
dignation ;  the  brute  certainly  heard  it,  and  grew  white  as 
the  canvas  covering  the  luggage-heap.  I  wish  that  I  could 
set  down  all  the  phrases,  but  I  cannot,  though  I  remem- 
ber them  remarkably  well :  some  of  them  were  too  much 
of  the  Harney  and  Hancock  pattern  for  type. 

"  You  call  me  a  '  d — d  Yankee,'  do  yon,  you  infernal 
English  thief  and  beast !"  he  rather  growled  than  spoke, 
while  there  was  something  of  the  tiger  just  ready  to 
spring  in  every  lineament  and  gesture.  "  You  touch  me 
with  your  stick,  do  you,  you  drunken  dog  that  the  decent 
14 


313  PARIS    IN-    '67. 

dog  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  follow  !  Look  at  that  girl, 
too  good  to  wipe  her  shoes  on  your  filthy  carcass  in  spite 
of  what  you  have  made  her;  and  then  even  speak  to  a 
white  man  again !  Ever  put  yourself  in  viy  way  again,  or 
open  your  mouth  to  me,  or  wink  at  me,  or  let  me  see  that 
you  know  that  I  live,  and  by  "  (no  matter  who  or  what) 
"  I  will  revenge  that  poor  girl  aud  the  British  nation  that 
you  outrage  with  your  miserable,  drunken,  vagabond, 
scoundrelly  life,  by  choking  you  as  I  would  a  rattlesnake  or 
drowning  you  as  I  would  a  blind  puppy  !" 

Narrowood,  drunk  as  he  was,  evidently  believed  that 
the  indignant  man  meant  what  he  said ;  and  so  did  poor 
Lizzie,  aud  so  did  the  passengers  who  overheard.  He 
tried  to  mumble  an  apology,  but  only  gabbled,  and  Lizzie 
(oh,  that  clinging  attachment  of  woman  to  the  worthless 
once  loved !)  drew  him  away,  atid  thus  ended  the  scene. 
Entering  Dieppe  harbor  and  landing  came  only  a  few 
minutes  later,  and  I  saw  neither  of  the  three  any  more ; 
but  I  think  that  others  than  myself  learned  with  gratifica- 
tion an  hour  after,  at  the  Hotel  de  I'Europe,  that  the  drun- 
ken beast  had  tumbled  over  from  the  gang-plank  while 
landing,  come  near  to  anticipating  the  "blind-puppy" 
doom  threatened  by  the  American,  and  only  been  saved 
with  difficulty,  half-drowned  and  temporarily-sobered,  by 
the  boatmen,  who  plunged  reluctantly  after  him  under  the 
incitement  of  poor  Lizzie's  wringing  hands  and  pleading 
cries. 

■  Strangely  enough,  the  only  peculiar  sensation  of  my  return 
passage,  by  Calais  and  Dover,  has  to  do  with  another 
drunken  man !  Almost  the  only  peculiar  sensation,  I 
should  have  written ;  for  was  there  not  something  worth 
remembering  in  my  first  sight  of  those  very  old  crumbling 
walls  and  gates  of  Calais,  the  very  same  once  delivered  to 
English  Edward,  with  the  keys  on  a  cushion  and  ropes 
around  the  necks  of  Eustace  de  St.  Pierre  and  the  other 


ON    THE    GHANFEL.  313 

French  knights,  when  of  good  Queen  Philippa  of  Hai- 
nault  and  her  mercy  it  was  said  :  "  Edward  may  own 
cities,  but  it  is  Philippa  who  conquers  hearts  !"  And  are 
not  the  railway  omnibuses  of  Calais  to  be  remembered, 
with  their  "  Xothing  for  fare,  gentlemen,  but  something 
for  the  driver  ;"  and  the  little  baggage-beggars,  more  plen- 
tiful and  more  persistent  than  even  in  Xew  York ;  and  the 
shabby  and  tumble-down  long  pier,  down  which  they 
are  going  to  have  a  rail  some  day  in  the  coming  centuries ; 
and  the  low-lyitig  white -funneled  steamers  at  the  high 
pier;  and  the  tubby,  round-bowed  black  luggers  with  "C. 
786,"  or  some  other  number,  in  great  white  letters  on  either 
bow;  and  low  "Calais  Sands"  at  a  little  distance,  where 
bathing  and  duels  have  been  almost  equally  frequent  at 
water  and  shore  edges  ?  And  is  it  not  worth  something, — 
even  through  the  driving  rain  of  a  sudden  gust  that  came 
too  late  to  "  kick  up  a  sea,"  but  made  the  skipper  crawl 
funnily,  feet  foremost,  into  a  tarpaiilin  bag, — to  have  seen 
tall  white  perpendicular  Dover  Cliffs,  made  immortal  by  a 
few  words  in  "  King  Lear ;"  and  picturesque  Dover  Castle 
crowning  its  circular  knoll,  but  dominated  by  the  mod- 
ern fortifications  opposite — one  of  the  most  striking  coast- 
scenes,  in  short,  to  be  found  in  making  approach  to  the 
rugged  and  rock -bound  island? 

But  of  my  drunken  "  Joe,"  on  this  return  run,  with  a 
word  of  whom  this  rambling  paper  must  perforce  conclude. 

He  was  a  rather  good-looking  and  quite  pleasant-looking 
man  of  forty  or  forty-five,  with  the  handsomest  of  too- 
long  dark  beards,  a  spree-ish  eye,  two  friends  in  comj^any, 
a  leathern  hat-box  and  an  umbrella.  He  came  on  board  at 
Calais,  already  a  little  tipsy  ;  and  he  drank  too  often,  all 
the  while,  so  that  I  heard  one  of  his  friends  warn  hira  : 
"  Joe,  if  you  are  not  careful,  you  will  be  drunk  !"  He  xcas 
drunk — very  drunk,  long  before  we  reached  Dover ;  but  as 
difierent  in  his  drunkenness  from  the  brute  of  whom  I 


314  PARIS    IN    '67. 

have  lately  made  mention,  as  good-nature  is  from  bestia- 
lity. As  he  grew  tipsier  he  grew  merrier,  ana  developed  a 
singing  propensity  somewhat  marine  in  the  character  of 
its  subjects.  Then  came  the  gust,  with  its  fierce,  quick 
rain,  sending  everybody  below  for  shelter;  and  as  I  went 
down  the  compnnion-way  I  saw  his  two  companions  trying 
to  induce  "  Joe  "  to  leave  his  seat  and  follow. 

The  rain  partially  ceased  in  about  fifteen  minutes,  and 
the  tbick-booted  and  oil-clothed  rushed  again  on  deck  at 
once,  as  Dover  Castle  was  within  view.  But  not  even  the 
Castle  could  distract  my  attention  from  "Joe"  at  that 
moment.  It  was  evident  that  his  companions  had  failed 
to  efiect  his  removal,  and  beaten  their  own  retreat ;  and 
there  he  lay,  in  the  two  inches  of  water  yet  flooding  the 
forward-deck,  flat  on  his  back,  but  his  head  supposedly  shel- 
tered under  the  open  slat-work  of  the  side-seat,  holding 
over  him  his  umbrella  for  protection,  while  the  wind  had 
turned  that  implement  inside  out,  and  a  rent  near  the  han 
die  sent  down  the  whole  stream  thus  collected,  as  through 
a  funnel,  into  his  face  and  neck.  His  hat-box,  two  or  three 
feet  from  him,  had  lost  the  lid,  and  the  hat  within  was 
showing  itself  a  water-proof  by  retaining  about  four  inches 
of  the  liquid  ;  while  the  owner,  evidently  believing  him- 
self' sheltered,  and  happy  beyond  precedent,  was  clinging  to 
his  reversed  umbrella,  kicking  up  his  heels  like  a  sclnol 
boy,  and  singing  "  Britannia  rules  the  waves !"  as  well  as 
could  be  efiected  through  the  rain-water  spluttering  into 
his  mouth. 

One  of  his  friends  coming  up  at  the  moment,  and  a  deck 
hand  assisting,  "  Joe  "  was  extricated  from  his  berth  under 
the  seat,  and  brought  to  a  standing  position,  while  I  do 
not  think  that  he  additionally  quavered  a  note  in  his  lay 
on  account  of  the  removal.  But,  alas ! — our  troubles  are 
sometimes  only  begun  when  they  seem  to  be  ended  :  mak- 
ing a  demonstration  towards  the  cabin-door,  he  caught  his 


ON    THE    CHANNEL.  315 

foot  in  the  combing,  doubled  up  like  a  jack-knife  blade  in 
its  handle,  and  the  last  that  I  saw  of  hiin  he  was  disappear- 
ing, head-foremost  and  feet  upward,  down  the  companion- 
way  of  La  France's  forward  cabin. 

With  which  unsatisfactory  last  glimpse,  this  equally  un- 
satisfactory second  glimpse  of  the  coasts,  waters,  boats  and 
passengers  '*  between  France  and  England,"  must  fade 
away,  and  give  place  to  other  observations  no  less  frag- 
mentai'y  and  desultory. 


XXVL 

BIRD-FLIGHT   m   SWITZERLAND— PARIS   TO   GENEVA 
AND   CHILLON. 

N'oT  that  the  Governor,  spite  of  his  fragile  physique, 
"was  a  "  bird,"  at  any  time  during  the  brief  Swiss  cam- 
paign— not  when  the  first  papers  of  this  rambling  record 
rather  threw  themselves  than  were  thrown  into  shape 
at  Interlaken  in  late  July — not  even  when  he  might 
have  made  some  pretensions  to  belong  to  the  feathered 
tribe,  while  wearing  a  two-feet  wing-quill  of  the  lammer- 
geyer,  with  a  sort  of  dim  fancy  that  it  made  him  an  Alpine 
hunter  and  warrior,  after  his  fortunate  discovery  of  that 
article  at  Giessbach  on  Brienz. 

No — not  that  there  was  really  any  thing  of  the  bird, 
either  in  lightness  or  grace,  about  either  of  the  party, 
miraculously  increased  to  six,  who  made  the  flight  through 
Switzerland ;  but  simply  because  the  progress  tons  a  flight : 
that  two  weeks  between  entering  the  land  of  blue  lakes 
and  snow-capped  mountains,  and  taking  departure  there- 
from, is  such  a  mere  atom  of  time  that  the  participants  in 
it  may  well  have  supposed  themselves  swallows  or  rice- 
birds,  making  a  long  sweep  from  one  climate  to  anothei*. 
"  Birds'-eye  views,"  however,  are  sometimes  thought  ex- 
cellent as  well  as  comprehensive ;  let  us  hope  that  in  the 
" bird-flight  in  Switzerland"  at  least  a  few  features  may 
have  been  observed,  giving  the  brief  relation  some  portion 


PARIS    TO     GEyEVA.  317 

of  the  enjoyability  found  in  the  travel  which  it  commem- 
orates. 

Perhaps  there  was  really  no  miracle  in  the  "  increase  of 
the  party  to  six,"  already  spoken  of.  People  with  a  pro- 
pensity to  enjoyment  as  naturally  drift  together  as  the 
morose  and  unenjoying  drift  apart.  The  advent  of  Young 
Hawesby  has  been  noted  in  the  Channel  experience  of  the 
tour ;  it  only  remains  to  introduce  and  describe  Lady 
Eleanor  and  the  Gipsy  Queen,  who  made  up  the  half 
dozen. 

Lady  Eleanor  had  remarkably  handsome  eyes,  while  the 
rest  of  her  was  all  so  English,  from  her  well-concealed 
form  to  her  rebellious  hair,  as  to  well-nigh  frighten  a  repub- 
lican. The  Gipsy  Queen  was  an  elder  sister,  not  nearly  so 
handsome  as  L.  E.,  somewhat  stouter,  and  so  much  jollier, 
that  my  fancy  of  a  whole-souled  and  go-ahead  traveling 
companion  will  always  henceforth  be  associated  with  the 
full,  mature-looking  mother's-face  in  embryo,  and  the  mis- 
chievous furtive  dark  eye  that  could  make  the  whole  face 
handsome  when  it  pleased.  They  were  sisters — L.  E. 
and  the  G.  Q. — English,  and  traveling  unattended;  and  a 
better  fortune  than  generally  attends  him,  ordained  that 
on  the  very  evening  of  the  day  on  the  afternoon  of  which 
the  Governor  had  fallen  in  love  with  Lady  Eleanor's  eyes 
at  the  dinner-table  of  the  Paris  hotel,  the  two  were  intro- 
duced as  traveling  companions  on  the  way  to  Switzerland. 
How  gladly  the  Governor  embraced  (not  Lady  E.,  but)  the 
proposal,  and  proceeded  to  show  his  authority  as  "  guide, 
philosopher,  and  friend,"  by  ruling  out  all  trunks,  and  ar- 
ranging to  rout  up  the  whole  party  by  four-and-a-half  in 
the  morning  ;  all  this  is  of  no  consequence :  it  only  remains 
to  say,  that  probably  he  (the  G.)  would  not  have  proceeded 
so  hilariously,  if  he  could  have  foreseen  how  Young 
Hawesby  (Yorkshire)  and  Lady  Eleanor  (Derbyshire) 
would  fall  in  love  with  each  other  "  at  sight,"  and  go  about 


318  PARIS    IN'    '67. 

billing  and  cooing,  thenceforth,  to  the  intense  disgust  of 
people  who  enjoyed  no  such  privileges. 

But  all  this  is,  strictly  speaking,  a  "  bird-flight "  into 
tlie  realms  of  love-making,  instead  of  toward  Switzerland. 
Xor  boots  it  to  tell,  at  any  length,  how  we  whirled  away 
from  Paris  with  the  Fourth  of  July  shouts  of  the  rampant 
Americans  yet  ringing  in  our  ears — by  Fontainebleau  and 
Dijon,  for  Geneva,  over  a  pleasant  flat  courntry,  with  many 
of  the  Mohawk  Valley  features,  but  the  wealth  of  vines 
showing  that  we  could  not  be  anywhere  else  in  America 
than  in  the  neighborhood  of  Cincinnati.  How  we  were 
for  a  long  time  running  beside  the  pleasant,  shady-banked, 
winding  Seine,  showing  much  of  the  same  rural  character 
here,  atlerward  displayed  around  Rouen  ;  then  beside  the 
Yvonne,  a  yet  flatter-banked  stream,  with  some  of  the  very 
oldest  of  the  old  cottages  of  France  breaking  into  view 
here  and  there,  and  the  oddest  of  antiquated  conveyances, 
agricultural  and  other,  following  the  hard,  cream-colored, 
Lorabardy-poplared  roads.  How  we  ate  (according  to  Lady 
Eleanor)  a  "thundering  good  dinner"  at  the  noonday 
Rtopping-place,  the  queer  old  town  of  Tonnerre  (heedless 
people  are  respectfully  requested  to  look  a  little  closely  after 
the  joke  therein  hidden)  !  How,  below  Dijon  and  Chalons- 
Rur-Saone,  we  found  yet  more  willows,  of  a  stripped  and 
whip-stocky  character,  giving  a  peculiar  and  not  very 
pleasant  feature  to  the  landscape,  but  charming  valleys  and 
rolling  hills,  with  the  vine  of  Southern  France  more  and 
more  plentiful  everywhere,  and  a  long,  irregular  blue  line 
on  the  eastern  horizon,  marking  the  distant  Jura,  and 
thrilling  the  pulses  with  the  reality  of  approaching  the 
Switzerland  of  so  many  dreams  and  so  much  expectation- 
How  we  came,  as  nightfall  approached,  beside  the  beauti- 
ful, quiet,  low  green-banked  Saone,  reminding  one  of  the 
Lower  Mohawk,  and  sometimes  of  the  Merrimac — and  to 
Macon,  of  the   vinous   celebrity,  lying  thereon,  with  its 


PARIS    TO     GEFEYA.  319 

handsome  bridge;  and  shade  of  poplars  lining  both  sides 
of  the  river;  and  shabby  and  rickety  little  steamboat  (the 
"Etoile")  just  come  up  from  Lyons ;  and  public  ground 
along  the  river,  wherein  the  people  gathered,  and  the  mu- 
sic sounded,  and  the  merry  go-rounds  tried  to  emulate  the 
Champs  Elysees  during  that  pleasant  summer  evening. 
How  we  came  to  the  Hotel  de  I'Europe,  Avith  its  slippery 
red-tiled  passages,  and  handsomely-old-furnished  chambers, 
where  even  the  presence  of  Lord  Clarence  Paget,  on  his 
way  to  Constantinople,  did  not  prevent  the  American  no- 
bility being  well  received  and  cared  for.  How  we  saw  the 
handsome  old  church,  and  saw  rather  than  heard  the  morn- 
ing prayers  of  the  old  and  poor,  in  the  charming  Gotliic 
interior,  for  which  even  the  beautiful  towers  scarcely  pre- 
pared us  ;  and  saw  the  fine  old  antique  Madonnas,  filling 
the  old  niches  along  the  narrow  streets ;  and  entered  the 
dingy  shops  of  Macon,  and  saw  how  they  ground  cofiee 
and  cut  beet-root  sugar  into  convenient  pieces  with  a  pair 
of  shears  ;  and  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  dark-com- 
plexioned Southera  Frenchwomen,  with  their  queer  flats 
and  black  caps,  and  wooden-covered  jars  of  milk,  carried 
on  sticks,  like  so  many  pendent  fish  ;  and  also  made  the 
acquaintance  of  the  crumbling  old  fountain,  and  the  humble 
poor  who  crawled  around  it  like  so  many  earth-worms 
seeking  the  warm  sunshine  in  a  damp  place ;  and  voted 
the  old  town  a  pleasant  thing  to  do,  and  left  it  regretfully. 
Regretfully,  and  yet  how  willingly — for  were  we  not 
approaching  Switzerland  ?  Not  directly,  for  they  swept 
us  away  westward,  to  our  change  at  Bourg,  as  if  we  had 
been  going  to  the  Mediterranean — then  gave  us  a  few 
pretty  glimpses  of  the  Saone,  with  some  rough  hills  at  the 
left,  and  changed  us  again  at  a  place  with  prettier  name 
than  features — Amberieux  (which  is  nothing,  by  the  way, 
until  one  hears  a  French  railway-guard  speak  it)  ;  then 
detained  us  unreasonably,  as  if  we  could  afford  to  wait 
14* 


320  PARIS    IN    '6r. 

for  our  great  pleasure  till  another  traiu  came  by  for  Culoz 
and  Geneva. 

But  we  had  our  compensation.  Hundreds,  they  tell  me, 
go  on  from  Paris  to  Geneva,  doing  the  latter  part  of  the 
journey  by  night,  and  missing  the  valley  of  the  Rhone ! — 
they  might  as  well  go  from  Buffalo  to  Toronto  by  night 
and  miss  the  Suspension  Bridge  an3  Niagara  !  For  more 
magnificent  passes  than  those  which  begin  almost  immedi- 
ately after  leaving  Amberieux  for  Culoz,  no  route  on  earth 
can  supply — the  marvelous  grape-vine-studded  side-hills, 
with  the  old  cottages  hanging  on  the  slopes,  roughening  to 
overhanging  cliffs  of  really  awful  height  and  grandeur, 
under  which  the  whirling  train  seems  nothing  but  an  atom 
to  be  crushed  at  any  moment.  Here  an  old  castle,  crown- 
ing a  sharp  eminence  evidently  once  very  strong,  now  crum- 
bled away  like  the  feudal  power  that  originally  held  it ; 
then  the  very  old  and  picturesque  hamlet  of  St.  Rambert- 
en-Bougy,  tower-crowned,  and  dominated  by  a  colossal 
white  statue  that  must  supply  ghosts  to  all  the  women  and 
children  ;  then  ranges  of  rocks  thrust  skyward,  so  worn 
into  resemblance  to  house-gables  and  circular  towers  that 
thej''  scarcely  seem  possible  to  be  the  work  of  nature ; 
then  the  very  steepest  and  most  pokerish  down-grade  that 
ever  a  nervous  man  rode  over,  in  and  out  among  the  hills, 
but  ever  seeming  to  be  shooting  downward  to  infinitesimal 
smash,  and  hindering  the  eye  a  little  in  its  surveys  of  the 
glorious  scenery  opening  ahead — all  the  way  to  Rosillon. 
Then  white  chalk  roads,  with  a  better  level,  and  blouses 
and  donkeys  painfully  plentiful  (for  neither  the  French 
peasant  nor  his  donkey  is  handsome !)  by  Artemart  to 
Culoz,  about  which  latter  inconsequential  town  I  might 
have  known  something  if  I  had  been  going  anywhere 
else  than  to  Switzerland  ! 

It  is  at  Culoz  that  the  ascent  of  the  valley  of  the  Rhone 
really  commences — blessed  is  Culoz  that  opens  such  a  door 


PARIS     TO     CxEN'EVA.  321 

to  all  that  is  roughly  magnificent  in  scenery  !  For  what 
pen  can  indicate,  or  what  pencil  can  convey  more  than  a 
few  detached  glimpses,  of  that  splendid  chaos  over  and 
under  and  through  which  the  railway  passes  along  the 
southern  side  of  the  sky-reaching  Jura  range — here  the 
gray,  chalky,  rapid  Khone  rushing  two  or  three  hundred 
feet  below,  between  perpendicular,  crooked,  rocky  banks, 
marvelously  like  those  of  Niagara  below  the  Falls — rapids 
and  cascades  whitely  seen  in  flying  glimpses ;  there  the 
same  river  between  low  green  banks,  calm  and  modest  as 
it  had  before  been  wild  and  dashing;  here  the  road  run- 
ning on  the  edge  of  a  precipice  of  dizzy  height,  or  sweep- 
ing over  a  trellis  bridge  spanning  a  gulf  with  cobweb 
lightness ;  there  becoming  subterranean  instead  of  aerial, 
and  crawling  rapidly  under  mile  after  mile  of  dark  tunnel 
that  seemed  to  make  the  existence  of  outer  daylight  doubt- 
ful ;  scarcely  a  foot  of  level  from  which  the  constructing-engi- 
neer  could  have  taken  a  departure  for  depression  or  eleva- 
tion. Oh,  what  a  tr'umph  of  engineering  is  that  railway 
from  Culoz  to  Geneva ! — though  the  exclamation  may  seem 
to  come  gratuitously  from  a  citizen  of  the  republic  mak- 
ing playthings  of  the  AUeghanies,  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
and  the  Sierra  Nevada,  and  at  a  time  when  the  Alps  them- 
selves are  being  railway-climbed  without  and  railway-tun- 
neled within.  All  this  shall  not  prevent  my  repeating — 
what  a  triumph  of  engineering  is  that  railway  from  Culoz 
to  Geneva  ! — or  keep  me  from  adding,  that  the  ride  is  one 
of  the  most  magnificent  yet  compassed  on  the  face  of  the 
globe. 

For  befoi'e  we  came  to  the  neat  little  station  of  B  lie- 
garde  (Ain),  and  learned  that  we  were  crossing  from  France 
into  Switzerland,  the  mountains  southeastward  began  to 
rise  higher  and  higher — sharp-peaked  and  rugged,  pointing 
skyward,  though  as  yet  no  snow  capped  their  awful  sum- 
mits.    Then  came  the  crowning  moment  when  wc  dashed 


322  PARIS    IK    '67. 

over  the  latticed  bridge  of  Chancy-Pougny,  with  its  glances 
backward  over  the  deep-baiiked,  rapid,  "  arrowy  Rhone," 
— and  when,  turning  the  gaze  southeastward  again,  there 
came  that  sensation,  not  twice  repeated,  I  think,  in  life, 
and  which  I  find  hurriedly  dashed  in  my  note-book,  with 
a  very  trembling  hand,  but  underscored  as  if  nothing  less 
than  the  strongest  of  small-caps  coiild  do  it  justice — "  first 

GLIMPSE  OF  THE  SXOW-CROWNED  SHARP  PEAKS  ABOVE  THE 
CLOUDS  !" 

Mountains  and  descriptions  of  mountains  have  been  the 
Governor's  idols  and  pet  literature,  since  the  day  when  he 
first  learned,  at  school,  what  was  the  meaning  of  the  gene- 
ric word.  They  have  come  to  him,  as  I'saHties,  gradually; 
and  it  is  to  be  doubted  whether  he  has  not  gradually  be- 
come a  greater  fool  on  the  subject,  in  corresponding  pro- 
gression. One  day — now  many  a  long  year  ago — he 
caught  his  first  view  of  mountains  proper,  in  the  beautiful 
blue  line  of  the  Cattskills  from  the  Hudson.  Thenceforth 
the  mountains  of  all  the  world  filled  bis  nightly  dreams, 
for  weeks,  and  an  awful  shadowy  presence  loomed  over  his 
eyes  by  day.  Years  afterward,  when  his  foot  had  become 
familiar  with  the  tops  of  most  of  the  American  minor 
ranges,  one  day  he  went  half-mad  over  the  fii-st  grand  re- 
vealment  of  Mount  Washington,  giant  of  Eastern  America, 
heaving  up  its  mighty  dusky  cone  against  the  sky ;  and 
some  of  the  common-sense  people  tlien  in  the  carriage  with 
him,  talked  of  tying  him  as  a  lunatic !  That  day  Tt-hen 
many  of  the  mountains  of  the  Old  World  had  become  only 
less  familial',  but  the  pleasure  of  pleasures  had  been  so  far 
deferred — that  day,  on  the  high-level  beside  the  Jura  and 
over  the  Rhone,  as  the  great  mountains  of  Savoy  thrust  up 
their  glittering  spires  heavenward,  the  Aignillettes  so  many 
needles  of  cloudless  ivory  piercing  the  clomls,  and  one 
awful  mass  of  snow-bank,  broader-coned,  clumsy-shaped, 
but  unspeakably  majestic,  heaving  itself  so  far  into  the 


PARIS    TO     GENEVA.  323 

empyrean,  though  then  so  very,  very  distant,  that  the  pass- 
ing cloud-swales  seemed  to  be  bathing  its  feet  instead  of 
its  massive  shoulders  or  pearl-white  brow — then  he  went 
entix'ely  mad  :  madder  than  he  will  ever  be  again  until  he 
looks  upon  opalesque  Mount  Hood  in  Oregon,  or  makes  a 
distant  peep  of  the  Himalayas  part  of  his  projected  (very 
much  "projected,"  i.  e.,  thrust  forward)  tour  around  the 
globe.  Forgetting,  not  time  and  place,  but  propriety,  he 
sprang  up,  like  the  madman  that  he  was,  and  tried  to  get 
out  of  the  window  of  the  flying  railway-carriage,  while 
Young  Hawesby,  alarmed,  seized  one  leg  and  the  Captain 
grappled  hira  mercifully  by  the  collar — sprang  up,  eyes 
ablaze,  face  very  dirty,  and  hair  as  nearly  on  end  as  it  could 
be  for  the  admixture  of  railway-dust,  and  screamed  out : 
"My  God! — that  is  Mont  Blanc! — I  know  it!  can  such 
things  be,  that  the  mountains  really  reach  to  heaven !" 

The  Captain  was  shocked,  as  well  he  might  be,  and  held 
on  to  the  collar  of  the  offender ;  Anna  Maria  (one  of  the 
dearest  lovers  of  nature  ever  wasted  within — hooped 
skirts)  went  a  little  mad  in  response,  and  tried  to  get  out 
of  the  opposite  window,  where  nothing  whatever  Avas  to  be 
seen  ;  Young  Hawesby  surveyed  the  wonder  gravely,  as  was 
becoming  to  an  Englishman  and  a  student ;  Lady  Eleanor 
laughed,  and  expressed  a  doubt  of  the  identity  of  the 
mountain ;  and  the  Gipsy  Queen,  sympathetically  moved 
when  she  had  not  yet  been  allowed  to  catch  even  a  glimpse, 
had  something  very  like  tears  in  her  fine  eyes  ;  while  a 
pleasant-faced  Franco-Suisse  lady,  one  of  the  only  two 
strangers  in  the  compartment,  replying  at  once  to  the  mad 
Governor  and  Lady  Eleanor's  doubt,  said  :  '•'■Moiisieur  a 
raison — c'est  Mont  Ulanc ;  et  le  jour  a  beaucou^)  de 
bonheur  pour  la  vue  de  la  grande  montagne :  toxis  les  nu- 
ances laissaient  IdP^ — "  Combien  de  distance  de  la  grande 
montagne^  madame  .^"  the  dazed  Governor  found  thought 
to  ask,  in  addition  to  his  thanks :  "  OA,  quatre-vingt  inilles, 


324  PARIS    ly    '6  7. 

ou  cent  milles,  possiblement ;"  and  then  we  knew  that  that 
stupendous  snowbank,  on  which  we  could  trace  the  ino- 
quaUties  of  surface,  and  even  occasionally  catch  the  glitter 
of  tlie  sun  on  its  crystals,  was  from  eighty  to  one  hundred 
miles  away ! 

[N.  B.  The  Governor  did  not  sing  or  shout : 

"Mont  Blaoc  is  the  monarch  of  mountains; 
They  crowned  him  long  ago, 
On  a  throne  of  rocks,  In  a  robe  of  clouds. 
With  a  diadem  of  snow !" 

Simply  because  he  retained  brain  enough  to  remember  that 
every  one  of  the  others  was  expecting  him  to  fulfill  that 
Byronian  duty  of  the  tourist  approaching  the  sno \v -peaks 
of  Savoy.  No — any  other  weakness  than  the  quotation  of 
the  finest  of  poems  in  the  most  appropriate  of  places  ;  but 
that — never !] 

On  to  Geneva,  with  that  stupendous  presence  accom- 
panying; to  the  Hotel  de  la  Couronne,  lying  at  the  south 
side  of  the  foot  of  the  i-apid-flowing,  boisterous,  sea-mim- 
icking, chalky- watered  Lake  Leman,  Lake  of  Geneva, 
Genfer  See,  or  any  one  of  the  dozen  other  names  with  which 
geography  and  romance  have  combined  to  invest  one  of 
the  loveliest  sheets  of  water  in  the  world,  with  settings 
magnificent  beyond  comparison.  To  find  there  the  begin- 
ning of  a  succession  of  Swiss  hotels,  unimpeachable  in 
every  detail  of  luxury  and  convenience.  To  be  told  there 
that  the  view  of  Mont  Blanc,  already  enjoyed,  was 
entirely  exceptional,  and  that  nothing  more  could  possibly 
be  seen  of  the  monarch  through  the  gathering  clouds  of 
that  evening.  To  wander  out  into  the  fine  Jardin  Anglais 
lying  on  the  verge  of' the  lake,  almost  immediately  in  front 
of  the  Couronne,  and  over  bridges  spanning  the  lake-foot, 
in  a  rare  blending  of  convenience  and  indirection,  lightness 
and  stability,  oddity  and  beauty — with  Rousseau's  garden 
thrown  oat  from  one,  like  an  enlarged  pier-head,  vailed 


PARIS    TO     GENEVA.  305 

with  drooping  trees  and  spiral  Lombardies,  and  gay  witli 
evening  promenaders.  To  reach  the  other  or  westein  side 
of  the  lake,  and,  wandering  up  its  tiny  wave-beaten  espla- 
nade, find  the  prophecy  of  Boniface  illustrated  in  seeing 
Mont  Blanc  through  so  cloudless  an  atmosphere,  and  to 
such  an  advantage  under  the  westering  sun,  that  the  Grands 
Mulcts,  the  Mer  de  Glace,  and  every  larger  detail  of  its 
wonderful  structure,  seemed  almost  within  stone's-throw, 
and  Young  Hawesby  volunteered  to  step  the  sixty  or 
seventy  miles  across  to  the  peak  before  supper  and  return 
in  time  for  breakfast !  To  stroll  out  on  the  long  low  stone 
breakwater,  with  a  light-house  at  the  end,  which  forms  a 
shelter  for  the  little  harbor  when  the  winds  blow  down 
the  lake,  and  find  the  mimic  seas  breaking  against  and 
over  it  with  no  contemptible  force,  and  danger  of  washing 
careless  feet  from  the  wet  and  slippery  stone-work.  To  see 
the  queer  lateen-rigged  lake  schooners,  high-pro  wed,  and  a 
cross  between  the  North  River  dirt-schooner  and  the 
Roman  galley,  coming  down  from  the  head  of  the  lake, 
before  the  wind,  with  their  distant  appearance  precisely 
that  of  a  colossal  jackass  under  water  all  but  its  head, 
and  the  big  ears  lolling  ponderously ;  to  board  one  of  them 
over  the  swapng  long  plank,  with  much  shivering  on 
the  part  of  Lady  Eleanor,  much  aplomb  of  carriage  on 
that  of  the  Gipsy  Queen,  and  much  effort  to  drown 
Young  Hawesby  by  shaking  him  off,  on  the  part  of  the 
Governor;  and  to  find  the  "schooner"  really  little  more 
than  a  decked  mud-scow,  and  wonder  where  Cooper  found 
space  to  stow  all  his  heroes  and  all  their  luggage  and  mer- 
chandise, in  his  "  bark  "  of  similar  character,  setting  sail 
from  Geneva  for  Yilleneuve,  in  the  graphic  opening  of  his 
Swiss  novel,  "  The  Headsman."  And  then  to  watch  the 
sunset  and  the  radiant  sky  following  it,  over  the  irregular 
dark  line  of  the  Jura,  westward, — and  to  turn  eastward 
to  the  unfailing  cynosure,  the  "  monarch  of  mountains," 


32G.  PARIS    IN    '67. 

and  see  it  hold  the  sunlight  on  its  peak,  long  after  the 
Aiguillettes  and  all  the  neighboring  mountains  had  lost 
the  rose-colored  glow — then  fade  and  darken  gradually  to  a 
cool,  grayish-white,  solemn  mass  of  indescribable  sublimity, 
relieved  against  the  fast-darkening  sky  southeastward.  To 
feel  the  weight  of  making  acquaintance  with  the  great 
mountain — one  more  of  the  long-deferred  goals  of  romantic 
hope  reached  at  last ;  and  to  carry  that  feeling  even  amid 
the  flashing  lights  and  fine  music,  and  delighted  crowds  of 
the  English  Garden,  with  the  lake  sparkling  and  rippling 
at  its  edge,  through  an  evening  of  concert  revelry  and 
l)romenade  not  easily  crowded  away  by  any  thing  similar 
in  recollection.  And  then,  to  crown  all,  to  steal  out  from 
the  Couronne  (some  of  us)  at  midnight,  and  cross  the 
bridge  again  to  the  other  side  of  the  lake,  and  strain  the 
eyes  to  catch  just  one  glimpse  of  Mont  Blanc  under  the 
ten-day  moon — and  to  see  it  at  last,  a  pale  white  phantom, 
the  "  shadow  of  a  shade,"  yet  seeming — like  most  of  the 
terrors  of  human  life — more  awful  in  its  vague  dimness 
than  it  had  been  under  the  all-revealing  eye  of  day.  Think, 
those  who  can,  what  a  day  of  sensations  that  had  been  ! — 
the  Valley  of  the  Rhone,  the  Lake  of  Geneva,  the  moun- 
tains of  Savoy,  all  added  within  that  brief  space  to  the 
treasures  of  sight  laid  up  in  the  storehouse  of  memorj?^ ! 

Geneva  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  cities  in  the  world, 
for  the  sake  of  the  mountains  that  gird  it  and  the  lake 
which  spreads  at  its  regal  feet,  if  for  no  other.  And  even 
in  itself  it  is  very  lovely,  and  full  of  interest,  to  those  who 
pursue  the  picturesque  and  love  the  historical.  Narrower, 
crookeder,  older-looking  streets  than  those  through  which 
the  climb  is  made  to  the  Cathedral,  around  which  clusters 
the  old  city,  cannot  be  found  short  of  Nuremberg :  more 
antiquated-looking  ones  than  those  where  cluster  the  queer 
arched-windowed  workshops,  with  their  continual  remind- 
ers, in  the  midst  of  dust  and  dingiuess,  that  Geneva  is 


PARIS    TO     GENEVA.  327 

horologic  and  makes  clocks  and  watches  for  half  the  world 
— cannot  be  found,  I  think,  even  in  the  center  of  conti- 
nental Europe.     And  the  Cathedral  itself  is  a  glory  in  any 
land — with  its  splendid  clustered  Gothic  columns,  affording 
such   forest-like   vistas ;    its    old    pulpit-canopy,   beneath 
which  St.  Bernard,  and  Calvin,  and  John  Knox,  and  Theo- 
dore Beza,  and  a  hundred  other  lights  of  the  evangelical 
world  have  first  and  last  given  forth  their  utterances ;  its 
broad   slab-tombs  in  the  pavement,  beneath  which   molder 
away   Jean    de   Brognier,   President    of   the  memorable 
Council  of  Constance,  and  scores  of  men  with  only  lesser 
names  ;  its  recess  tombs,  in  which  and  on  which,  dust  and 
statue  (some  of  the  latter  "  in  armor  as   [they]  lived  "), 
repose  celebrity  and  nonentity,  all  the  way  from  Duke 
Henry  de  Rohan   downward ;    its    splendid  windows  of 
soft  stained  glass,  some  of  them  very  old,  and  pilgrimages 
to  lovers  of  art ;   its  low,  soft,  continued   echoes  through 
those  forests  of  groined  arches,  making  the  voice  resonant 
and  the  organ  sweetly  thunderous ;  its  rarest  sun-dial  in 
all  Euroj^e,  under  the  heavy  trees  that  keep  the  court-yard 
ever  in  solemn  shade. 

All  this  is  of  the  antique  and  the  lazy ;  and  very  appro- 
priate beside  it  are  the  street  scenes  and  personnel — the 
brown,  Swiss-looking  men,  shirt-sleeved  and  cross-bod- 
diced,  who  trudge  up  and  down  these  steep,  narrow  ways, 
carrying  water  in  long  tubs  strapped  upon  the  back ;  the 
browner  and  older-looking  women,  broad-hatted,  evidently 
poor,  and  yet  w^th  a  low  content  in  their  faces  (as  well  as 
those  of  the  men),  which  cannot  be  found  among  the  peas- 
antry of  cdl  the  countries  of  Europe  (the  Captain  averred 
that  the  content  arose  from  Switzerland  being  a  republic — 
alone  in  a  decent  government,  of  all  the  continent,  except 
poor  little  San  Marino)  ;  its  old  open-air  market,  fine- 
fruited,  and  far  enough  south  to  bring  in  the  ripe,  fresh 
figs  (which  Anna  Maria  tried,  with  the  result  of  puckered 


328  PARIS    IJN'   '67. 

lips,  and  a  declaration  ttat :  "Ugh!  they  were  a  cross 
between  tomatoes  and  persimmons  !") 

There  is  a  newer  Geneva,  and  it  lies  near  the  lake,  on 
both  sides  (old  Geneva  lying  principally  on  the  southern 
side  of  it).  And  that  newer  Geneva  embraces  the  long 
esplanades  bordering  the  lake,  also  on  both  sides,  with 
their  really  wonderful  array  of  first-class  hotels,  from 
several  of  which  Mont  Blanc  is  visible,  and  any  one  of 
which  can  supply  "  scenery  "  enough  to  content  a  tourist 
of  moderate  capacity.  It  embraces,  too,  the  lai-ger  mercan- 
tile houses,  crowding  down  toward  the  lake,  and  the 
watch-manufactories,  which  probably  send  out  more  good 
time-pieces,  and  more  bad  ones,  than  those  of  any  other 
city  on  the  globe.  And  it  is  no  small  treat  to  one  fond 
of  minute  mechanical  researches,  to  run  through  such  a 
factory  as  that  of  Pathek,  Philippe  &  Co.,  adjoining  the 
Couronne,  and  see  how  machinery  has  been  made  to  per- 
form the  most  delicate  of  details,  and  how  that  which 
could  never  be  done  in  moderate  quantity  at  any  moderate 
price,  is  cheaply  accomplished  at  a  comparative  song  when 
thousands  of  pieces  are  under  preparation  at  once.  [Jfem. 
The  Captain  brought  away  one  of  the  handsomest  watches 
in  Geneva.  I  wish  I  knew  how  he  could  afibrd  such  lux- 
uries !  I  might  have  brought  away  one,  too,  if  we  had 
not  been  quite  so  closely  "  accompanied  "  during  our  pro- 
gress among  the  valuables  !] 

It  was  one  of  the  loveliest  of  mornings,  when  the 
stanch  iron  paddle-wheeler,  the  Aigle  (appropriate  name, 
among  such  mountains !)  bore  us  away  up  the  lake  for 
Chillon,  on  her  way  to  Villeneuve,  only  a  trifle  beyond. 
Mont  Blanc  was  gloriously  clear  again  under  the  morn- 
ing sun,  and,  whenever  the  foot-hills  would  permit,  gave  us 
splendid  glimpses  of  his  snowy  crown,  more  than  half 
way  up  the  lake.  And  what  a  sail  was  that  (if  "sail"  it 
can  be  called,  when  sail  there  is  none),  going  eastward  on 


PARIS    TO     GENEVA.  329 

tbat  crescent  of  water,  with  the  northern  or  circular  side 
sweetly  green  and  fertile,  and.  studded  with  towns,  vil- 
lages, and  hamlets,  the  dark  Jura  range  rising  miles  away, 
behind  the  intervale ;  while  on  the  southern  side,  close 
down  to  the  water,  came  those  precipitous  cliffs  which 
Cooper  has  well  named  the  "  ramparts  of  SaA^oy  " — wild, 
rugged,  forbidding,  snow  in  the  upper  gulches  of  the 
chain,  and  behind  and  above  them,  at  far  too  great  a  dis- 
tance to  be  calculated  by  the  eye,  the  great  snow  chain, 
with  Mont  Blanc  crowning  all,  dominating  the  whole, 
and  giving  the  sublime  that  finish  which  ever  seems  to 
bring  up  the  one  word  allying  the  scene  to  some  special 
wonder  of  God's  hand — awful !  I  have  said  it  before,  and 
I  repeat  it:  the  Lake  of  Geneva  is  matchless  in  its  moun- 
tain setting — a  thing  to  be  seen,  felt,  remembered  while 
life  lasts,  but  never  described. 

By  Coppet,  by  Nyon,  by  Ouchy  (sacred  to  Byron,  and 
with  a  Beau  Rivage  where  something  softening  seems  to 
woo  the  world-beaten  to  a  residence  of  rest)^  by  Lausanne 
and  Vevay.  All  on  the  northern  side  of  the  lake  ;  for  the 
Aigle  and  other  birds  of  that  iron-bosomed  brood  have  no 
occasion  to  cross  to  the  sterile  and  rocky  southern  shore. 
Pleasant  towns,  villages,  hamlets ;  places  to  pause  and 
linger  at,  did  time  permit  and  was  there  no  Chillon.  At 
last  a  little  landing,  when  the  upper  end  of  the  lake  was 
nearly  reached,  and  when  the  narrowing  had  brought  us 
very  near  to  those  wonderful  snow  mountains  of  Savoy  at 
the  other  side,  while  Villeu^uve,  only  a  few  miles  farther 
on,  where  the  "  arrowy  Rhone  "  enters  the  lake,  seemed 
to  be  a  line  of  Lombardy  poplars  and  very  little  more. 

The  little  landing  was  that  of  Veytaux-Chillou ;  the  lit- 
tle hotel  which  we  passed,  rising  the  hill,  a  few  moments 
later,  bore  the  same  name ;  and  twenty  minutes  of  walk 
under  the  almost  blistering  sun  brought  us  to  the  gateway 
of  the  chateau  which  we  had  seen  rising  from  the  water 


330  FA  BIS    IN    '67. 

a  picturesque  confused  mass  of  square  and  round  towers 
on  the  very  edge  of  the  lake,  and  indeed  hanging  over  it, 
while  rugged,  verdure-clad  peaks  frowned  down  in  tura 
from  behind  and  above  the  chateau. 

The  Castle  of  Chillon.  Long  the  residence  of  the  Dukes 
of  Savoy,  and  worthy  of  visit  and  note  for  itself  and  for  its 
mediaeval  recollections ;  and  yet  what  would  it  have  been, 
had  not  one  Byron,  one  day  after  visitmg  it,  and  when 
lounging,  not  too  free  in  digestion  just  then,  at  what  is  now 
the  "Hotel  Byron"  in  the  neighborhood,  remembered  the 
imprisonment  of  poor  Savoyard  Bonnivard  there,  and  con- 
cluded to  weave  around  him  and  the  old  pile  a  tissue 
of  fiincies  which  really  belonged  to  neither  !  lie  did  so, 
however ;  the  "  Prisoner  of  Chillon  '*  came  forth  (as  its 
prototj^^e  had  not  done)  to  delight  and  pain  the  world  ; 
and  thenceforth  the  castle  was  to  be  a  pilgrimage  for  aU 
races  and  all  ages  !  So  much  for  genius  and  its  vagaries 
— it  is  a  capital  thing  for  adding  to  the  profits  of  guides 
and  shopkeepers,  in  certain  localities ;  but  I  suspect  that 
the  less  said  of  its  influence  upon  historical  knowledge,  the 
better. 

What  is  the  use  of  all  this  ? — the  pilgrimage  is  a  pilgrim- 
age, and  the  unconscious  carper  has  been  among  the  most 
devoted  of  the  pilgrims.  Did  he  (the  Governor)  and  his 
companions  not  cross  the  rickety  draw-bridge  over  the  dark 
and  weedy  but  now  waveless  moat  ? — and  crawl  under 
every  low  arch  shown  them  by  the  guide ;  and  learn  with 
surprise  what  a  grand  old  residence  the  Chateau  must  once 
have  been,  when  the  Dukes  of  Savoy  made  it  one  of  the 
houses  of  their  splendor  ;  and  see  the  chamber  once  occu- 
pied by  Louis  le  Debonnaire  when  a  guest  of  the  royal 
duke  of  his  period ;  and  pass  through  the  vaulted-ceilinged 
chambers  where  the  dukes  and  their  duchesses  used  to 
receive  guests,  and  dine,  and  sleep,  and  hold  levees,  and 
do  theii-  small  modicum  (in  chapel)  of  military  and  other 


PARIS    TO     OEFEYA.  ZZ\ 

praying  ;  and  shiver  within  the  dark  and  moldy  oichliettes 
(dungeons),  some  of  the  half-closed  stairs  of  which  yet 
give  access  to  the  lake,  below  its  own  level ;  and  think  of 
the  inevitable  compensations  of  history,  seeing  the  piled 
arms  and  battle-flags  of  the  Helvetian  Confederation, 
freest  of  European  nations,  with  the  crusading  white 
cross  on  the  red,  and  the  significant  motto:  '■'•  Liberte  et 
T'a^r/e /"  in  that  very  grand  old  vaulted  chamber  where 
once  irresponsible  despotic  power  made  the  men  of  the 
Cantons  tremble  at  its  nod ;  and  come  at  last  to  the 
cheerless  Chamber  of  the  Condemned,  where  the  doomed 
passed  their  last  not-too-comfortable  night — and  then  to 
one  succeeding,  scarcely  more  cheerless,  albeit  it  contained 
a  ready  gallows  and  a  trap-door  for  "chucking  "  the  new- 
ly-made corpses  into  the  lake — and  then  to  that  of  Bonni- 
vard,  the  scene  of  Byron's  wondrous  poem. 

The  dungeon  of  Bonnivard  has  a  heavily  vaulted  roof 
and  seven  heavy  Gothic-arched  columns,  as  all  will  re- 
member who  remember  that  rarely-descriptive  opening  of 
the  second  stanza : — 

"  There  are  seven  pillars  of  Gothic  mold, 
In  Chillon's  dungeons  deep  and  old; 
There  are  seven  colnmns,  massy  and  gray, 
Dim  with  a  dull  imprisoned  ray, 
A  sunbeam  which  hatU  lost  its  way. 
And  through  the  crevice  and  the  cleft 
Of  the  thick  wall  is  fallen  and  left ; 
Creeping  o'er  the  lloor  so  damp, 
Like  a  marsh's  meteor  lamp ; 
And  in  each  pillar  there  is  a  ring, 
And  in  each  ring  there  is  a  chain  ; " 

The  side  of  the  dungeon  farthest  from  the  windows  and 
the  lake  seems  to  have  been  built  against  the  solid  rock,  or 
else  the  wall  has  crumbled  away  and  lies  in  heaps  on  that 
side.  The  window-slits  are  very  narrow,  and  so  high  that 
when  the  Governor  (prompted  by  Anna  Maria)  determined 
to  steal  all  the  blue-bells  growing  in  them,  it  was  no  in- 


332  PARIS    I2T'&1. 

considerable  length  of  ladder  that  carried  the  suborned  guide 
up  to  the  theft.  They  must  have  been  difficult  to  reach, 
by  the  best  contrivance  of  the  prisoner ;  and  even  in  the 
brightest  days  they  can  have  given  only  the  dimmest  of 
light  to  the  great  room.  But  oh,  -what  a  torment  of  Tanta- 
lus must  he  have  endured,  when  he  did  reach  those  nar- 
row slits,  and  look  out  on  the  world  from  which  he  was 
debarred !  For  the  lake  with  its  gliding  sails  and  flashing 
tiny  waves  lies  in  full  view  below,  and  beyond  rise  the 
mountains  of  Savoy,  backed  by  that  great  snow-range 
which  brings  a  thrill  even  in  memory ;  and  what  must  be 
the  pang,  not  only  to  look  upon  one  bit  of  a  debarred  world, 
but  that  bit  dropped  out  of  the  veiy  scenic  heaven  ! 

It  is  the  third  of  these  columns  from  the  entrance  door, 
whereon  the  name  of  "  Byron,"  deeply  cut,  can  still  be 
discerned,  spite  of  the  many  hundreds  of  visitors  who  have 
tried  to  take  part  in  the  fame  of  Chillon  by  likewise  using 
penknife  on  the  friable  stone;  and  it  is  the  fifth  to  which 
the  guide  points  as  that  on  which  the  massive  ring  once 
held  the  shackles  of  Bonnivard.  It  may  be  so ;  it  probably 
is  so ;  I  had  schooled  myself  into  the  firm  belief  that  it 
was  so,  long  before  I  had  disposed  of  my  raped  flowers  and 
the  bit  of  stone  gouged  from  the  old  walls,  bought  a  few 
pictures  aud  a  Helvetian  ten-sous  piece  or  so,  as  memen- 
tos of  a  most  memorable  visit,  and  emerged  again  to 
daylight  and  the  outer  air,  to  find  a  train  of  black  cars 
dashing  along  the  railway  back  of  the  Castle  and  within 
twenty  feet  of  it,  and  to  muse  anew  on  the  rapidity  with 
which  the  New  is  encroaching  upon,  transforming,  and 
eventually  sweeping  away  the  Old. 


XXVII. 

BIRD-FLIGHT   IN    SWITZERLAND— II.— THROUGH    THE 
OBERLAND. 

The  Captain  wished  to  stay  in  Geneva  for  a  twelve- 
month, but  the  thing  was  impracticable.  Then  he  peti- 
tioned for  a  month  ;  but  he  was  over-ruled,  five  to  one. 
Not  even  Geneva  and  its  lake  could  compensate  for  the 
loss  of  all  the  rest  of  the  world — scarcely  for  missing  the 
Bernese  Oberland,  which  was  to  be  our  substitute  for 
Chamouni  and  theTete  Noire,  left  over  for  another  season. 
The  vote  might  possibly  have  been  different,  had  not 
Young  Hawesby  exhausted  his  available  French  in  a  fierce 
encounter  with  a  Genevese  cab-driver,  whom  he  finally  paid 
beyond  demand, — and  been  anxious  to  get  toward  Ger- 
many, where  he  could  fall  back  upon  his  reserve  of  the 
Teutonic  dialect.  At  all  events,  one  morning  we  bade  a 
regretful  farewell  to  the  picturesque  old  town  and  its 
Calvinian  memories — to  Rousseau's  Garden,  to  the  floating 
donkeys'-ears,  to  the  almost  uninterrupted  views  of  the 
great  snow-range — and  rolled  away  in  the  half-American 
Swiss  railway  carriages  for  the  Oberland  via  Berne. 

What  long  last  glimpses  of  Mont  Blanc  we  took  that 
morning,  especially  when,  at  IVtorges,  through  a  wonderfully 
deep  gorge  in  the  "  ramparts  "  on  the  southern  side  of  the 
lake  (something  like  the  Clove  at  the  Cattskills),  we  caught 
the  whole  white  side  of  the  range,  apparently  almost  to 
the  water's  level,  and  for  the  first  time  saw  something  else 
than  the  awful    peaks!     And  when  the   great   mountain 


334  PARIS    TN    '67. 

faded  through  inexorable  distance,  the  charm  of  scenery 
by  no  means  faded  with  it ;  for  there  were  plenty  of 
pokerish  gorges,  and  bridge-depths,  and  picturesque  low- 
lying  valleys,  where  towns  and  hamlets  nestled  as  cozily 
as  so  many  sheep  in  a  huge  pasture ;  and  Romont,  a  very 
old  town  climbing  up  a  side-hill,  showed  us  a  wilderness 
of  round  and  square  towers,  Lombard y-poplars  and  antique 
houses  of  the  no-horned  character  ;  and  then  the  rocky- 
banked  Same  came  directly,  with  such  frightful  gorges 
that  we  almost  forgot  the  valley  of  the  Rhone ;  and 
Fribourg  presently  glared  at  us  with  wrathful  eyes  from 
the  many-pointed  Cathedral,  because  we  could  not  possibly 
stop  to  hear  the  big  organ, — and  so  impressed  us  with  the 
round  towers  and  coped  wall  of  its  old  fortifications, 
through  the  means  of  which  it  stood  astride  over  a  gorge 
which  would  otherwise  have  been  too  much  for  it,  that  we 
felt  rather  relieved  than  otherwise  when  beyond  its  ken. 
Then  came  the  Swiss  chalets,  much  talked  of,  long  waited 
for — those  handsome,  odd,  laboriously-built,  extending- 
roofed,  side-galleried,  shingle-inclosed  erections  of  wood, 
on  the  building  of  the  more  perfect  of  which,  one  man 
would  seem  to  have  exhausted  a  life-time  for  each  and 
died  just  before  nailing  on  the  roof,  so  that  the  survivors 
had  been  obliged  to  put  on  the  toj)  half  the  rocks  in  the 
canton,  to  prevent  the  whole  affair  blowing  away.  A 
first  glimpse,  this,  of  a  feature  that  was  to  become  so 
familiar  during  the  few  following  days,  as  to  give  the 
sense  of  rustic  beauty  in  building  a  new  direction,  and 
almost  to  make  us  fancy  that  we  had  lived  among  them 
all  our  lives. 

Berne,  at  last — Berne  of  the  bears.  Another  fine  old 
town,  with  the  sides  of  nearly  all  its  streets  handsome 
columned  arcades  of  stone,  affording  shopping  facilities  and 
promenades  uneqnaled  by  any  other  city  in  recollection, — 
and  with  quite  all  its  shops  and  shop- windows  full  of  wood- 


THROUGH    THE    OBERLAND.         335 

carvings,  the  bear  largely  predominating.  I  do  not  know 
the  human  population  of  Berne,  but  I  think  that  I  am  safe 
in  saying  that  the  bears,  principally  wooden,  would  count 
up  ten  millions.  Everybody  sells  bears,  at  Berne ;  every- 
body buys  bears  and  sends  them  all  over  the  world.  Ask 
me  not  why — I  do  not  know  ;  there  is  a  legend  which  some- 
how connects  the  town  and  the  ursine  breed,  and  that  is 
quite  enough  to  induce  the  mounting  of  bears  on  all  the 
fountains,  all  the  public  buildings,  all  the  churches,  and 
even  to  warrant  the  keeping  of  a  round  bear-pit  (Fosse  de 
I'Ours)  at  the  lower  end  of  the  Grande  line,  near  the  hand- 
some public  promenade  and  over  the  precipitous-sided  and 
rapid  Aar, — in  one  semicircle  of  which  two  or  three 
enormous  live  bruins  lounge  lazily  and  occasionally  eat  up 
a  drunken  Englishman  when  he  tumbles  into  their  abode ; 
while  in  the  other  semicircle  half  a  dozen  young  ones, 
with  their  wild-oats  not  yet  sown,  munch  contributed  fruit, 
climb  trees,  wrestle,  and  generally  disport  themselves  for 
the  behoof  of  visitors. 

Very  picturesque  is  Berne  at  that  portion,  with  the  well- 
shaded  public  grounds  rising  beyond  the  Aar,  the  old 
town  literally  hanging  over  the  river  on  the  hither  side, 
and  the  stream  spanned  by  two  stone  bridges  of  perilous 
height,  and  one  of  timber-work  a  little  above  (the  railway- 
bridge)  so  high  that  its  chords  really  seem  to  be  those  of 
cobwebs,  and  I  dare  not  even  mention  the  number  of  feet 
of  altitude  credited  to  it.  (I  thhik  that  I  have  heard  it 
called  from  two  to  three  hundred  feet  in  height ;  and  cer- 
tain it  is  that  in  riding  over  it  the  look  downward  might 
as  well  be  a  thousand.) 

But  Berne  has  something  more  attractive  than  even  the 
public  grounds  and  bridges  over  the  Aar.  At  the  head  of 
the  Grande  Rue,  and  near  the  Federal  (N"ational)  Build- 
ings, which  a  due  memory  of  the  City  of  Washington 
would  keep  almost  any  American  from  entering, — stands 
16 


336  PARIS    IN-    '67. 

the  old  Town  Hall,  a  fine  specimen  of  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury, Tiow  restored  in  exquisite  taste  ;  and  immediately  be- 
side it  the  Cathedral,  built  in  the  fourteenth,  lifts  one  grand 
square  tower  and  many  pinnacles,  while  its  arched  front 
entrance  has  an  elaboration  only  second  to  that  of  Stras- 
bourg ;  and  immediately  in  front  of  it,  in  enduring  bronze, 
splendidly  rides  Rudolph  Von  Erlach,  who  won  Laupen 
in  1339,  four  bears  (of  course)  him  gavdaiit  at  the  corners. 
A  few  steps,  and  the  Terrasse  de  Cathedral e  is  reached — a 
handsome  shaded  public  ground  overhanging  the  Aar  at 
a  dizzy  height,  with  several  monuments,  conspicuous 
among  them  one  in  bronze  to  Berth  old  V.,  Due  de  Zaerin- 
gen,  "  Conductor  of  the  Bears  of  Berne," — one  of  the 
noblest  and  most  modest  designations  of  the  leader  of 
a  warlike  people,  possible  to  conceive.  But  what  is  all 
this,  and  the  story  of  the  knight  who  once  leapt  the  para- 
pet of  this  terrace  and  landed  unharmed,  horse  and  rider, 
in  the  Aar  beneath, — to  the  view  of  the  mountains  of  the 
Bernese  Oberland — the  queenly  white  Jungfrau,  and  her 
companions  the  Monk  and  the  Eiger,  first  caught  from  this 
point?  Ah,  that  first  view  of  the  Bernese  m(mntains! — ah, 
that  admiration  approaching  to  worship — and  that  bound- 
ing of  the  pulses  at  the  thought  of  approaching  them  more 
nearly  !  There  may  have  been  less  madness  in  this  first 
glimpse  than  in  that  which  opened  Mont  Blanc  to  memory, 
but  the  eye  was  certainly  better  filled  and  the  sense  of 
beauty  better  satisfied. 

Fine  old  Berne  Cathedral ! — through  which  no  longer 
thunder  the  masses  of  Rome,  but  the  stately  chants  of  the 
Lutherans  ! — there  is  a  tender  recollection  about  that  pile, 
henceforth,  that  can  no  more  be  forgotten  than  here 
ignored.  I  do  not  know,-  and  shall  probably  never  know, 
what  German  master  of  the  organ  it  was,  who  on  the  night 
when  we  reached  Berne  chose  to  spend  his  evening  send- 
ing the  tones  of  the  powerful  instrument  through  those 


THROUGH    THE    OBEELAXD.         337 

grand  old  arches,  while  we  sat  wrapt  in  the  darkness  of 
the  aisles  below,  and  alternately  felt  the  hot  tears  brimming 
up  as  he  wailed  a  dirge  for  some  lost  soul,  or  dreamed 
that  the  heavens  were  opening  as  he  led  us  up  with  the 
last  silver  tinkle  of  a  hymn  of  praise  that  seemed  dying 
away  in  the  very  empyrean,  or  shrunk  within  ourselves 
when  the  great  bursts  of  somid  "  echoed  roof  and  trembled 
rafter "  with  thunders  that  might  have  heralded  the  Day 
of  Doom!  I  thought  that  I  had  before  heard  the  organ: 
it  was  a  mistake — all  before  had  only  been  preludes  ;  the 
playing  came  when  the  German  master  touched  the  keys, 
with  the  arches  of  old  Berne  Cathedral  to  supply  the  whis- 
pering or  thunderous  echo  !  And  yet  there  is  reason  to  fear 
that  Lady  Eleanor  and  Young  Hawesby,  just  then  in  the 
unreasonable  stage,  heard  not  a  note,  and  calmly  made 
love  through  it  all ! 

"  At  Interlaken,  heart  of  the  Bernese  Oberland  " — such 
were  the  first  words  of  this  rambling  record,  penned  then 
and  there;  and  at  this  point  something  like  a  wide  circle 
seems  to  have  been  rounded.  At  Interlaken  the  pen 
made  record  of  what  had  occurred  in  very  diiferent  scenes  : 
it  is  only  just  that  among  widely  diflerent  scenes  it  should 
make  record  of  Interlaken,  one  of  the  very  dearest  of  all 
memories  of  travel. 

No  matter  how  we  came,  by  rail,  and  then  down  the 
Aar  and  over  the  little  Lake  of  Thun,  from  Berne  to  Inter- 
laken ;  how  one  by  one,  very  soon  after  leaving  Berne, 
names  that  had  been  sacred  to  the  tourists'  thoughts  began 
to  be  called  out  as  the  grand  summits  came  to  the  eye — 
the  Jungfrau,  a  blunt  Avhite  cone  of  matchless  proportions  ; 
the  Monk  and  Eiger,  lower,  similar- shaped,  alike  spot-* 
lessly  white,  and  seeming  the  Virgin  Mountain's  inseparable 
companions  ;  the  Aarhorn,  the  Finsteraarhorn,  the  Matter- 
horn,  Mount  Cervin,  all  sharp,  jagged,  and  forbidding,  but 
all  seeming  to  loom  immediately  above  us,  so  clearly  they 


338  PARIS   IN-   '67. 

thrust  up  their  defiant  heads  into  the  shadowless  amber 
air.  Xor  how  the  brown  ranges,  lying  nearer,  presented 
a  rare  finished  beauty  in  the  late-lying  snow  that  made 
white  perpendicular  strips  along  every  gully  and  ravine, 
from  half-way  upward  to  the  top ;  while  at  every  turn  a 
new  cascade  broke  upon  the  view,  sparkling  down  the 
mountain  sides  wherever  a  slight  depression  could  give 
course  to  the  product  of  the  snow  already  melted.  A 
sweet  little  sail  was  that,  altogether,  on  the  Stadt  Berne, 
which  carried  us  from  the  landing  of  Scherlingen-Thun,  at 
the  mouth  (for  the  time)  of  the  Aar,  over  the  Lake  of 
Thun  to  Avithin  half  an  hour's  ride  by  the  omnibuses  of  the 
General  Post  from  Ne  whaus  to  Interlaken  ;  and  it  seemed  to 
culminate  when  the  Shrockhorn  rose  jagged  and  irregular 
three-pointed,  far  ahead,  and  reputedly  five  hundred  feet 
higher  than  the  Jungfrau,  filling  the  bound  of  vision  with 
the  very  suggestion  of  its  name — a  storm-shriek,  wild  and 
fierce  beyond  all  comparison. 

And  yet  I  think  that  not  all  of  us  looked  upon  the  peaks 
with  clear  eyes,  or  listened  with  the  due  unadulterated 
mirth  to  the  "  Yesh,  shentleman,"  "Much  bootiful  morning," 
and  "  ludeedly  very  well,"  of  stupid  old  John  Ilery,  the 
guide  who  had  been  forced  on  us  at  Berne,  to  neglect  us 
throughout  and  leave  us  at  Interlaken,  surcharged  with 
rage  at  a  balked  swindle  and  brandy  of  the  rawest  charac- 
ter. And  the  reason  of  the  diinined  eyes  was  this — that 
to  more  than  one  of  us  the  harp  and  violin  playing  on  the 
deck  of  the  little  Stadt  Berne,  told  too  ple.isant  a  story  of 
the  same  music  ou  the  decks  of  Hudson  day-steamers 
going  Cattskill  or  Saratoga-waid,  and  brought  far-distant 
loves,  with  all  the  sadness  of  separation,  nearer  than 
Shreckhorn  or  Finsteraarliorn  could  come  by  the  strong- 
est exercise  of  mountain  prerogative. 

But  we  were  at  Interlaken  at  last — Interlaken,  "between 
the  lakes,"  as  its  name  indicates  even  to  an  English  ear. 


THROUGH    THE    OBE-RLAND.         339 

Dear  old  Iiiterlaken ! — which  I  long  ago  called  the  "  most 
glorious  goal  of  a  pilgrimage  gemmed  with  notable 
sights  and  pleasant  recollections" — why  cannot  I  have 
space  to  make  the  "bird-flight"  in  your  neighborhood 
something  more  than  a  mere  rush  of  wings  I  Why  cannot 
I  tell  of  the  old  toAvn,  with  its  hanging-roofed  and  carved- 
gabled  chalets,  huddled  cozily  along  the  winding,  bridged, 
and  rapid  Aar — with  many  quiet  little  shops  and  baths, 
and  not  a  few  hotels ;  and  of  still  older-looking  suburban 
Unterseen,  on  the  other  side  of  the  bridge,  dominated  by 
the  great  rocks  that  seem  ready  at  any  moment  to  fall  and 
blot  it  from  the  map,  but  with  some  of  tlie  most  glorious 
views  of  the  Jungfrau  and  the  Monk  to  be  caught  in  all  the 
Oberland  ;  and  of  the  handsome  wide  streets,  with  delicious 
shade  and  lovely  walks,  stretching  through  the  more 
modern  part  of  the  town,  and  affording  frontage  for  a  range 
of  the  most  excellent  palatial  hotels  attainable  even  in 
Switzerland, — and  for  a  wilderness  of  shops  of  the  utmost 
elegance,  where  every  variety  of  wood-carving,  in  every 
size,  material,  and  costliness,  arrests  the  foot,  and  charms 
the  eye,  and  tempts  the  pocket — deer  and  dogs  and 
hunters,  and  bears,  and  birds,  and  little  chalets,  and 
marvelously  delicate  bijouterie-boxes  and  book-stands 
and  paper-folders  and  cuckoo  clocks —all  that  exquisite 
variety,  many  times  repeated,  which  tempts  the  eyes  and 
pockets  of  art-lovers  at  favoiite  galleries  on  Broadway, 
and  showing  where  many  of  those  gems  are  every  season 
picked  up  with  such  infinite  travel  and  trouble;  and  of 
the  Hotel  Victoria,  a  five-storied  palace  with  a  noble  front, 
handsome  com't-yard,  outlying  hamlets,  and  the  clearest 
possible  view  of  the  Jungfrau,  of  which  (tlie  hotel,  not  the 
Jungfrau)  Ruchty  is  proprietor  and  need  not  be  ashamed 
of  the  distinction  !  Why  cannot  I  have  space  to  speak  at 
length  of  all  these  things  ? — and  why  (saddest  thought  of 
all !)  why  cannot  I  be  allowed  to  scribble  a  volume,  and 


340  PARIS    IX    '67. 

detain  the  reader  for  at  least  a  week  in  thought,  over  the 
white  glories  of  the  Jungfrau  ? 

The  Jungfrau — ah,  that  is  what  we  specially  visit  In- 
terlaken  to  worship,  even  at  a  distance.  It  lies  in  full  view, 
some  fifteen  miles  distant  from  the  portion  of  the  town 
where  the  Hotels  Victoria,  Jungfrau,  &c.,  have  their  loca- 
tion— in  full  view,  all  the  upper  portions,  through  a  gorge 
between  the  nearer  and  lower  mountains,  which  seems  to 
have  been  arranged  with  special  references  to  visitors  and 
Interlaken.  I  would  no  more  attempt  to  describe  it,  even 
if  I  could,  than  to  limn  the  Queen  of  Heaven  if  I  should 
suddenly  catch  sight  of  her ;  and  the  temptation  is  put 
farther  away  by  the  fact  that  such  a  description  would 
be  simply  impossible.  I  only  know,  after  studying  the 
Virgin  Queen  by  day  and  by  night,  in  early  morning  sun- 
shine and  at  high  noon  and  at  falling  eve  and  through  the 
silver  moonlight — that  at  all  that  distance  away,  yet  seem- 
ingly almost  within  stone's-throw,  rises  skyward  the  truest 
rounded  cone  that  ever  blessed  human  eyes;  the  apex 
clear,  sharp,  and  well  defined  ;  the  covering  snow  so  spot- 
less that  at  any  time  it  may  have  fallen  but  yesterday,  and 
60  plain  to  view  that  the  very  sparkle  of  the  crystals  is 
often  visible ;  the  Silver  Horn,  snowier  than  the  snowiest, 
edging  the  right  slope,  just  below  the  peak,  with  a  ridge 
of  pure  white  glory  for  which  there  is  no  word  in  any  lan- 
guage ;  the  Snow  Horn,  a  little  farther  to  the  left,  only  less 
clear  and  beautiful ;  and,  sloping  down  into  the  bosom  of 
the  great  mountain,  broad  white  glaciers,  with  here  and 
there  a  ravine  of  dusky  shadow  that  would  even  yet  be 
white  as  relieved  against  any  mountain  less  spotless  than 
this  Crowned  Virgin  of  the  Oberland.  Far  more  shapely 
and  far  handsomer  than  Mont  Blanc,  scarcely  less  awful ^ 
in  the  upheaval  of  a  mighty  bulk  of  snow  above  the  clouds 
and  against  the  upper  sky — the  Jungfrau  fills  the  soul,  tasks 
description,  and  awakens  regret  at  the  very  thought   of 


THROUGH    THE     0  BEE  LAND.         311 

absence,  to  a  degree  that  I  had  never  before  believed  pos- 
sible with  any  work  of  God's  hand  except  the  great  wide 
sea,  which  seems  to  be  onr  mother! 

There  are  tlie  most  charming  of  excursions  from  Inter- 
laken,  to  be  readily  accomplished  from  any  single  spot  on 
the  continent ;  and  the  best  of  tbem  fell  to  the  lot  of  the 
Governor  and  his  "  birds  "  (who  doubts  the  foct  ?)  in  their 
few  days  in  the  heart  of  the  Oberland,  For  did  we  not 
ascend  Hohbul,  lying  halfway  between  the  town  and  the 
Brienz  landing,  and  thence  catch  views  of  all  the  Oberland 
range,  of  Interlaken  and  Unterseen  below,  the  lake  of  Tiiun 
northward,  and  that  of  Brienz,  a  very  trough  between 
great  peaks,  at  its  edge,  stretching  away  southward? — • 
besides  tempting  the  cross-boddiced  peasant-girls  to  sing 
the  '•'■  Ranz  des  Vaches"  in  the  very  echo  of  their  native 
hills,  that  ever  seemed  to  be  calling  home  the  cows  at 
evening — and  discovering  (eh,  Young  Hawesby !)  that 
Swiss  peasant-girls  do  not  sell  their  kisses  at  a  franc  each, 
even  when  youth  offers  the  temptation  ? 

And  did  we  not  ride  up  the  glorious  valley  of  Grindel- 
wald — largest  and  finest  of  the  valleys  of  Switzerland — 
the  richest  and  greenest  of  crops  covering  every  foot  of 
the  vale  below,  and  green  pastures  stretching  up  the 
"  alps  "  till  they  broke,  wave-like,  against  the  awful  crags 
of  the  mountahis  hemming  them  in  on  every  side;  while 
the  little  picturesque  chalets  climbed  the  slopes  as  if  they 
had  been  human,  and  the  chamois-  bounded,  and  even  the 
cattle  browsed  on  precipices  that  made  the  eye  dizzy  in 
looking  up,  and  suggested  what  must  have  been  the  effect 
in  looking  doion  !  Did  we  not  see  the  cascades  tumbling 
wilder  and  wilder  down  the  mountain  sides,  and  ride  beside 
a  white  river  of  rapids  with  the  force  and  roar  of  those  of 
Niagara — all  from  the  melted  snow  of  the  peaks  above ; 
and  see  the  bright  flowers  blooming  by  the  wayside,  heed- 
less of  the  snow  and  ice,  that  seemed  near  enough  to  chill 


342  PAIilS    IN    '67 

their  petals  and  close  their  bright  eyes  ?  Did  we  not  find 
ourselves  surrounded  with  children  and  old  people,  many 
of  them  "  goitred  "  and  miserable-looking,  and  all  importu- 
nate to  sell  their  cherries  and  little  wood-carvings  ;  and 
come  at  last  to  the  "Hotel  et  Pension  du  Glacier,"  with 
the  Glacier  Inferieur  de  Grindelwald  lying  in  full  view 
ahead  across  the  meadows,  coming  down,  like  a  frozen 
river  as  it  was,  between  the  Middenthal  on  the  left  and 
the  Eiger  on  the  right,  while  the  Glacier  Superieur  held 
place  farther  to  the  left,  between  the  Wetterhom  and  the 
Middenthal;  and  then  and  there  did  we  not  provide  our- 
selves with  the  piney  ''alpenstocks,"  iron-pointed,  for  the 
coming  ascent,  besides  kilting  petticoats  and  rolling 
trousers  (individually  and  according  to  garments— not  in- 
discriminately), and  take  our  way  beside  hay-field  and 
through  damp  wood  and  over  damper  meadow,  to  that 
debris  of  broken  stone,  half-dried  ravines  and  encroaching 
ice,  the  foot  of  the  Glacier  of  Grindelwald  ?  Did  we  not 
look  up  with  awe  at  the  splintered,  jagged  masses  of  ice, 
said  to  be  five  hundred  feet  in  thickness,  and  certainly 
extending  upward  for  miles,  striking  a  chill  to  the  very 
marrow  as  we  approached  the  foot, — and  then  dare  an- 
other and  a  worse  chill  by  passing  into  the  torch-lighted 
ice-caves,  an  hundred  or  two  of  feet  of  Avinding  passages, 
with  the  crystal  sides  and  roof  dripping  and  the  lights 
flaring  upon  a  greater  wealth  of  diamonds  and  crystals,  in 
those  wonderful  transparent  walls,  than  was  ever  dreamed 
of  by  the  painters  who  devised  scenery  for  the  "Ice 
Witch "  and  the  "  Naiad  Queen  ?"  And  then  did  not 
Young  Hawesby  and  the  Governor  "  do  their  glacier  "  by 
climbing  it,  alpenstock  in  hand,  guide  hanging  back,  with 
more  slippery  footing  than  they  like  to  think  of  in  calmer 
moments,  and  grave  doubts  whether  they  would  come  to 
their  end  by  mereVy  rolling  down  into  one  of  the  boiling 
caldrons  hundreds   of  feet  beneath,  or  meet  a   different 


THROUGH    THE    OBERLAND.         313 

death  by  being  simply  crushed  under  the  ice-boulders 
constantly  precipitating  themselves  downward,  amid  roar 
and  crash,  in  the  shape  of  young  avalanches?  And  does 
not  a  very  little  glacier  go  a  great  way  with  both  Young 
Hawesby  and  the  Governor,  neither  of  whom  intends  to 
do  the  glaciers  of  Mont  Blanc  at  any  early  period,  pres- 
ent cost  of  shoes  and  trousers  duly  considered? 

Half  the  objects  of  tourist  attraction  are  overrated ;  the 
other  half  are  correspondingly  underrated,  to  keep  the  bal- 
ance. All  the  world  hears,  continually,  of  the  Fall  of  the 
Staubbach,  at  Lauterbrunnen ;  and  scarcely  one  in  ten  hears 
of  the  Fall  of  Giessbach,  on  Brienz.  The  Fall  of  Lauterbrun- 
nen, reached  by  branching  off  from  the  Valley  of  Grindel- 
wald  into  the  narrower  and  wider  one  of  Lauterbrunnen, 
at  Zweilichenen,  is  fearfully  overrated,  it  being  simply  a 
single  clear  leap  of  a  very  thin  stream  down  the  sheer  cliff 
of  the  Batten  Alp,  about  nine  hundred  feet,  to  the  level  of 
the  valley  below  ;  though  there  is  really  an  awful  sublimity 
about  the  black  frown  of  the  Batten  and  the  Rothhorn 
opposite,  squeezing  the  valley  to  a  thread,  and  almost  the 
wildest  pass  in  memory — atoning  for  any  thing  that  may 
be  deficient  in  the  fall.  But  what  is  this  to  my  beauty — 
no,  02<r  beauty,  Gipsy  Queen  and  Anna  Maria,  to  the  daring 
foot  of  the  first  of  whom  I  owe  the  ascent  to  the  top — 
what  is  all  Lauterbach,  I  say,  to  the  Fall  of  Giessbach, 
reached  by  steamer  from  Interlaken,  and  half  way  down 
the  charming  mountain-hemmed  Lake  of  Brienz,  while  the 
climb  from  the  water-level  is  fully  compensated  by  even 
the  single  view  over  the  lake  from  the  handsome  plateau 
in  front  of  the  hotel  ?  Giessbach  is  by  far  the  loveliest 
waterfall  that  I  have  ever  seen — a  thousand  feet  of  descent 
of  a  noble  stream,  through  a  cleft  in  the  mountain-side, 
down,  over  rocks  and  through  embowering  trees,  one  mass 
of  swirling  white  foam  from  top  to  bottom,  and  the  thun- 
der of  its  course  fully  matched  by  the  shuddering  sensation 
15* 


SU  PARIS    IN    '67. 

of  its  visible  power.  Take  one-quarter  of  the  American 
Fall  at  Niagara,  AV'ith  its  features  of  feathery  foam  and 
arrewy  speed,  and  send  it  down  over  rocks,  though  almost 
perpendicularly,  six  or  seven  times  the  distance,  and  all  the 
while  glancing  through  and  among  the  wildest  and  glos- 
siest of  dark  shades — and  something  like  this  sweeter, 
■wilder,  moi-e  powerful  rival  of  Trenton  Falls  will  be  con- 
veyed to  the  imagination.  Even  mere  passers  up  the  lake 
have  a  glimpse  of  its  foot — a  hundred  feet  of  white  foamy 
water  hurrying  and  dashing  down  to  the  lake-level — just  as 
they  make  their  stop  at  little  Giessbach  landing,  where  the 
old  nondescript  caricature  of  Tell  and  Winkelried  sells  crys- 
tals and  lammergeyer-quills,  where  lie  clumsy  old  cano- 
pied boats  that  might  have  borne  even  the  grandfathers  of 
those  heroes,  and  where  the  peasant-girls  of  the  hamlet 
have  a  pleasant  habit  of  assembling  on  Sunday  afternoons, 
plenty  of  starched  linen  under  and  around  their  crossed- 
boddices  of  black  velvet,  to  sing  the  echo-hymns  of  the 
mountain-land,  carry  away  captive  hearts  by  their  oddity 
and  simplicity  that  they  would  never  insnare  with  their 
beauty — and  pocket  a  few  convenient  francs  against  Monday. 
Down  the  Lake  of  Brienz — a  glorious  sail,  through  the 
very  gems  of  Oberland  scenery — to  Brienz ;  and  then  into 
ommibuses,  long,  lumbering,  four-or-six-horsed ;  and  so 
with  a  gradual  ascent  over  the  Brunig  Pass  by  the  Hotel 
de  Brunigkulm  at  the  top,  and  down  on  the  other  side, 
with  a  much  more  rapid  suddenness,  to  the  Lucerne  side 
of  the  range.  Glorious  views,  throughout — sweet  little 
Alpine  lakes,  bluer  than  the  most  exaggerative  artist  has 
ever  painted  them,  and  gentle  (in  repose)  as  the  azure  eye 
of  the  woman  loved  best ;  a  halt  at  the  Hotel  du  Lion 
d'Or,  at  Lungen,  with  the  worst  of  the  villainous  Swiss 
wines  and  the  Tower  of  Babel  in  langunges — a  glance 
backward,  with  a  regretful  last  view  of  the  snow  range, 
the  Jungfrau,  the  Monk,  and  the  Eiger; — and  then  down 


TEROUGE    TEE     OBEELAND.  345 

lower  and  more  rapidly  to  the  little  landing  of  Alpnacli, 
on  the  Lake  of  Lucerne  ("Lake  of  the  Four  Cantons"), 
alleged  scene  of  Tell's  exploits,  and  the  rival  of  Geneva 
in  the  sharp  peaks  forming  a  setting  for  its  own  quiet 
beauty.  Where,  too,  a  terrible  catastrophe  occurred,  de- 
manding a  paragraph  of  its  own. 

There  were  a  considerable  number  of  persons  waiting 
on  and  about  the  wharf  for  the  Stadt  Luzern,  iron  paddle- 
wheeler,  then  steaming  up  from  Lucerne.  During  the 
wait  the  Gipsy  Queen  disappeared,  alone,  wliile  Young 
Hawesby  and  Lady  Eleanor  disappeared  without  being 
alone.  A  few  moments,  and  then  re-enter  the  Gipsy 
Queen,  running  in,  out  of  breath  and  hair  disheveled. 
"What  is  the  matter?"  simultaneous  inquiry,  in  all  the 
languages  of  Europe.  "Oh!  oh!  oh!" — no  explanation 
further.  The  anxious  inquiry  repeated.  "  Oh,  I  have 
heard  of  Swiss  avalanchea,  but  I  never  thought  that  I 
should  live  to  see  one  fall  and  destroy  life  in  that  man- 
ner!"  "An  avalanche?  fallen?  and  somebody  dead? 
Where  ?"  again  in  all  the  languages.  "  Oh,  round  the 
corner,  here — come  and  see  !"  All  remembered  that  they 
were  in  Switzerland,  a  name  associated  with  avalanches ; 
all  followed.  Slowly  and  solemnly  the  Gipsy  Queen  led 
the  way  round  a  corner  of  the  rocks  and  displayed  to 
the  gaze  of  her  astounded  victims — her  own  fice  rigid 
earnest  the  while —  a  stone  of  perhaps  a  pound  weight, 
and  the  hole  from  which  it  had  just  dislodged  itself  in  the 
bank,  while  beneath  the  fearful  "  avalanche "  a  black 
beetle  lay  crushed  and  lifeless !     Sensation  ! 

^  if  if  if  ■^  9f 

The  foregoing  line  of  stars  is  significant.  There  are  some 
things  about  which  the  nearest  possible  approach  to  silence 
is  the  nearest  approach  to  common  sense.  The  Governor 
and  his  party  went  on  to  Lucerne,  and  thence  rode  to 
Kussnacht    (an   old  town  of  no  particular  mark,   a  few 


346  PARTS  IN'  '6  7. 

miles  eastward,  where  Tell  is  said  to  have  lived,  and 
where  he  is  alleged  to  have  shot  the  apple  from  the  head 
of  his  son,  and  where  he  probably  did  so  if  he  really  lived, 
and  if  he  had  a  son  and  an  apple  and  a  bow,  and  if  there 
was  a  Gesler,  and  if  Gesler  had  a  hat,  et  cetera.)  It  was 
very  hot,  riding  down  to  Kussnacht  in  an  open  carriage; 
and  not  even  the  views  of  the  Rhigi  lianging  bare  and 
sharp  over  the  edge  of  the  lake,  and  the  sharp  needles  of 
Mount  Pilate  rising  on  the  other  side,  could  quite  console 
us  xmder  the  infliction.  It  grew  hotter,  but  we  engaged  a 
guide  and  a  porter,  and  went  up  the  Rhigi  on  foot,  like 
so  many  donkeys  as  we  were !  The  Rhigi  is  not  an  easy 
thing  to  climb.  It  supplied  us,  during  the  afternoon, 
with  magnificent  views  over  nearly  all  the  lakes  and  cities 
of  Switzerland,  from  Thun  to  Zurich,  and  from  Berne 
to  Altdorf ;  and  it  supplied  us  with  head-aches  and  the 
various  degrees  of  cou2y  de  soleil,  extending  farther  than 
either.  We  reached  the  top,  more  dead  than  alive,  at 
dusk ;  had  more  and  more  magnificent  views,  such  as  dead 
people  probably  take  from  their  cofiins.  We  found  no 
place  to  sleep,  or  even  to  lie  on  the  floor,  at  the  Kulm 
(on  the  extreme  top)  or  the  StaeflTel  (near  the  top).  We 
climbed  and  stumbled  down  to  the  Rhigi-Klosterli,  behind 
the  mountain,  and  passed  the  night.  There  were  lively 
times  that  night,  all  around — lively  times  at  the  Kulra, 
in  a  storm  which  beat  in  the  windows,  nearly  swept  away 
the  house,  and  set  the  women  screaming  through  the 
halls  with  the  somewhat  infelicitous  cry  that  the  Day 
(they  should  have  said  the  night)  of  Judgment  had  come. 
I  wish — not  that  the  day  had  arrived,  but  that  the  house 
had  been  swept  away,  roof  to  foundation  ;  likewise  the 
Staeffel ;  also  the  whole  top  of  the  mountain.  There  were 
lively  times,  too,  down  at  the  Klosterli,  where  the  half- 
dead  Governor  raved  (they  said)  even  worse  than  usual. 
Morning,  and  we  caught  a  few  more  views — especially 


THROUGH    THE    OBERLAND.  347 

views  of  the  lake,  and  of  the  Lake  of  the  Canton  Uri 
stretching  away  yet  southward — glorious  in  the  blue-black 
of  the  waters',  the  effects  of  the  rising  mists,  the  rugged 
sublimity  of  Pilate  and  the  white  peaks  of  the  far-away 
Oberland.  Then  we  stumbled  down  to  Weggis,  on  the 
west,  and  sailed  back  to  Lucerne ;  paxising  on  our  way 
down  to  think  how  prettily-situated  lay  Kaltbad,  half-way 
from  the  summit,  and  how  very  beautiful  it  might  be  to 
people  less  foot-sore,  weary,  and  ill-tempered. 

The  Rhigi  is  a  humbug,  a  delusion,  and  a  snare.  Not  one 
of  us  but  remembers  it  with  horror,  in  spite  of  the  views  of 
all  Switzerland,  which  it  certainly  gives  in  matchless  per- 
fection. If  I  ever  ascend  it  again,  it  will  be  with  an 
invading  force  and  a  park  of  battering-artillery,  especially 
to  blovT"  into  infinitesimal  smithereens  the  brutes  who 
reside  upon  it,  the  huts  where  they  find  shelter  and  afford 
none,  and  even  the  peaks  with  which  they  tempt  unwary 
travelers  to  destruction  ! 

Quite  enough  of  the  Rhigi,  as  we  all  had  too  much  of  it. 
The  "  bird-flight  in  Switzerland  "  was  nearly  over.  Jean 
Reber,  of  the  Englischer  Hof  at  Lucerne,  did  what  could 
be  done  to  restore  our  lost  vitality ;  then  we  were  photo- 
graphed— a  "  lovely  crowd,"  as  all  observers  can  testify. 
A  few  hours,  and  we  were  at  Bale,  on  the  Rhine ;  domi- 
ciled at  another  house  worth  mention — the  Trois  Rois, 
with  the  efiigies  ■■  of  those  notable  "  Three  Kings  of  Co- 
logne "  over  the  front  door,  and  the  balconies  of  the  rear 
hanging  over  the  rapid,  rushing  Rhine — our  first  glimpse 
of  that  river. 

Not  much  of  interest  at  Bale  (called  alternately  "  Bale,"  , 
"Basle,"    "Basel"),  at   least  to   a  flying  traveler.      Its 
most  remarkable  feature  is  to  be  found  in  its  "tide-ferries," 
in    which   the   boats,   diagonally  swung   to  a  wire   rope 
stretched  from  side  to  side,  sweep  across  with  tremendous 


34:8  ,  PARIS    IX    '67. 

speed,  the  current  being  entirely  the  motive  power. 
Next,  the  old,  narrow,  and  precipitous  streets,  and  houses 
antique  and  uncomfortable.  Next,  the  Cathedral,  com- 
paratively diminutive-looking,  and  so  old  as  to  have  been 
restored  in  1637,  with  outside  sculptures  of  such  oddity 
and  atrocity  that  they  might  found  a  new  school  of  the 
abominable  in  art.  Next,  the  thurch  of  St.  Peter, 
modern,  many-pinnacled,  and  elegant.  Finally  (and  by  no 
means  the  matter  of  least  consequence),  a  bridge,  with 
stone  coping  all  the  way  across,  and  half  the  piers  also 
of  substantial  stone,  but  the  other  half  timber  trestle- 
work  !  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  we  all  left  Bale,  and 
finished  our  brief  tour  in  Switzerland,  less  satisfied  than 
we  should  otherwise  have  done — because  no  one  could  be 
found  to  answer  our  poxirquoi  with  reference  to  the  two 
sides  of  that  bridge  ;  and  I  doubt  whether  all  of  us  will  not 
drift  back  there,  some  time  or  other,  with  no  more  pressing 
erraud  than  to  solve  the  painful  mystery ! 


XXVIII. 

STRASBOURG  PATES  AND  BADEN-BADEN  PIN-HOLES. 

We  came  to  Sti-asl)Ourg  (from  Bale)  uneventfully- 
enough,  though  we  may  be  said  to  have  received  a  wel- 
come (not  "warm  but  cold)  in  the  "  All  hail !"  proclaimed 
by  all  the  crops  in  the  Lower  Rhine  province  being  beaten 
down  by  that  description  of  celestial  pellet.  We  had  but 
one  sensation  during  the  latter  portion  of  the  railway  ride 
along  the  Lower  Rhine,  and  a  few  miles  westward  from  it ; 
and  that  consisted  in  seeing  what  seemed  to  be  an  ordinary 
church-spire,  with  high-hipped  roof  below,  standing  out  in 
the  woods,  with  the  oddity  of  its  dodging  about  hither  and 
thither,  first  on  one  side  of  the  route  and  then  the  other, 
never  seeming  to  be  passed,  and  never  to  come  appreciably 
nearer !  It  was  only  after  indulging  in  that  amusement 
during  a  run  of  thirty  or  forty  miles,  and  reaching  Stras- 
bourg at  the  end  of  it,  that  we  discovered  the  anomaly  to 
be  Strasbourg  Cathedral  itself,  the  spire  nearly  twice  the 
height  of  New  York  Trinity,  and  the  abutting  front  of  the 
main  building  somewhat  higher  than  the  top  of  the  highest 
other  spire  in  the  town,  so  that  both  had  been  seen  at  such 
a  distance  as  completely  hid  all  surroundings  behind  the 
intervening  forests  ! 

Strasbourg,  lying  on  the  German  frontier,  and  conse- 
quently that  one  of  the  large  French  cities  supplying  the 
guard  or  outpost  against  possible  German  encroachments, 


350  PARIS    IN   '67. 

is  splendidly  fortified  by  walls  and  circiimvallations,  and 
so  po-werfully  garrisoned  that  one  seems  to  find  a  caserne 
nearly  everywhere,  to  come  upon  a  squad  of  defiling  troops 
at  nearly  every  corner,  to  hear  the  tap  of  the  drum  and  the 
tramp  of  marching  feet  at  almost  any  hour  of  the  day  or 
night.  Then  it  has  marked  beauty  in  architecture  ,as  well 
as  notability  in  age ;  and  something  of  splendor  in  caf6 
construction  and  adornment,  something  almost  metropoli- 
tan in  the  arrangement  of  its  handsome  shaded  Champs 
Elysees,  lying  five  minutes'  walk  southward  from  the  old 
city-center  at  the  Cathedral,  seems  to  warrant  the  phrase 
often  applied  to  it,  and  to  mark  it  as  indeed  the  "Paris 
of  eastern  France."  It  has  evidently,  too,  important 
specialties  of  manufacture,  in  both  lighter  and  heavier 
lines,  from  silks  and  linens  to  watches,  bijouterie,  and 
steam-engines ;  but  we  have  literally  nothing  to  do  with 
these — wo  have  but  to  deal  with  a  few  sj^ecial  features 
which  fall  most  naturally  under  the  notice  of  the  hasty 
traveler  and  make  the  Strasbourg  visit  one  worthy  of 
long  recollection. 

Everybody,  I  think,  has  heard  of  "  the  wonderful  clock 
of  Strasbourg" — not  quite  everybody  has  taken  any  mental 
cognizance  of  the  wonderful  Cathedral  which  contains  it ; 
so  easy  is  humanity  to  be  impressed  with  the  comparatively 
petty,  if  it  is  only  curious  and  amusing — so  difficult  to 
touch  when  the  higher  qualities  of  estimation  are  needed 
to  that  end.  The  clock  is  really  a  wonder  in  its  compara- 
tively useless  way,  with  its  astronomical  dials  and  accura- 
cies (by  no  means  ordinarily  considered  as  marking  its 
value) — its  imposing  size  at  the  end  of  one  of  the  great 
naves  and  near  one  of  the  principal  entrances — its  odd 
blending  of  design  in  central  and  two  supporting 
towers — its  winding  once  in  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine 
years  (the  same  person  not  often  winding  it  twice,  they 
say) — its  gilded  colossal  cock,  that  flaps  its  wings  and 


STEASBOUEQ    AXD    BADEN.  351 

crows  three  times  (a  little  hoarsely)  on  the  top  of  the  left 
pinnacle,  every  day  at  noon — its  figure  of  Time  striking 
the  great  bell  every  half-hour — and  its  yet  more  difficult 
automatic  arrangement  of  the  twelve  apostles  coming  out 
from  their  hiding-places  and  making  their  circuit  around  the 
Saviour,  also  every  day  at  noon.  In  its  original  shape  and 
as  restored,  it  seems  to  have  a  very  high  antiquity,  and  it 
is  certainly  very  curious ;  but  it  does  not  go  much  further 
in  impressiveness,  unless  the  persons  impressed  are  chil- 
dren. There  are  a  great  many  "  children,"  however — 
several  hundreds  of  different  ages  crowd  in,  every  day  at 
noon,  to  see  the  apostles  make  their  promenade  and  hear 
the  cock  flap  his  wings  and  crow;  and  the  whole  of  our 
party,  from  the  grave  Captain  to  the  precise  Lady  Eleanor, 
rushed  away  from  the  Hotel  de  la  Ville  de  Paris,  on  our 
first  day  in  the  city,  with  such  speed,  to  avoid  losing  the 
marvels,  that  the  uninstructed  would  have  formed  a  very 
high  idea  of  the  devotion  which  drew  us  thus  hurriedly  to 
the.  Cathedral. 

Marvelous  as  the  clock  may  be  to  the  mere  mechanician, 
what  is  its  efiect  to  that  of  the  pile  itself  on  the  architect  or 
the  architecturally  instructed  ?  This  glorious  old  building, 
of  which  the  front  is  formed  of  two  towers  and  an  equal 
body-space  between — seeming  to  be  literally  three  towers 
— that  at  the  left  rising  to  a  spire  so  high  that  one  is  diz- 
zied in  looking  up  at  it,  and  so  elaborate  in  the  perforated 
work  of  its  upper  portion  that  it  creates  the  impression  of 
lace  embroidery  stiffened  into  position,  while  that  at  the 
right  has  a  mere  cap  at  roof-height — this  glorious  old 
building,  of  which  the  buttressed  and  pinnacled  sides  seem 
to  extend  backward  till  they  form  a  very  cluster  or  villa  of 
•elaborate  erections,  filling  the  whole  public  square  and 
actually  fatiguing  the  eye  with  the  delicate  details  of  sculp- 
tured figures,  tracery,  and  ornamentation,  while  the  three 
front  entrance  arches,  and  the  great  side  entrance  at  the 


352  PARIS    IN    '67. 

left,  thoroughly  bewilder  with  the  thousand  upon  thousand 
of  figures  that  stud  them — 

— "  Saints  and  angels  carved  in  stone, 

By  a  former  age  commissioned  as  apostles  to  our  own," 

(as  so  well  sings  Longfellow) — this  glorious  old  Cathedral, 
which  I  consider  by  far  the  superior  of  Notre  Dame  and 
Westminster,  and  more  than  the  rival  of  St.  Paul's  in  all 
except  massive  weight  and  space  covered  ;  this  (there  is  a 
prospect  now  of  an  end  to  the  sentence)  was  commenced 
so  long  ago  as  the  end  of  the  tenth  century,  by  one  of  the 
Hapsburgs,  long  before  Rudolph,  and  unsuspicious  of  im- 
perial sovereignty,  and  only  brought  to  any  thing  like  a 
finished  condition  five  hundred  years  afterward,  in  1500. 
Of  course  it  was  more  or  less  knocked  to  pieces  in  the 
ornamentations,  by  the  Jacobin  revolutionists  of  '89 ; 
but  it  has  been  well  restored,  and  it  stands  to-day  what 
the  Ca'jDtain  ("  architect,  artist  and  man")  well  designates 
as  "  wonderful  beyond  comparison,  in  size,  beauty  of  de- 
sign, and  finish  of  workmanship  ;  imapproachably  the  no- 
blest of  all  the  churches  so  far !" 

And  within — is  the  eifect  less  pleasing  ?  No ;  the  inte- 
rior is  worthy  of  that -outer  magnificence.  Very  like  Notre 
Dame  in  the  character  of  its  Gothic  columns,  arches,  and 
the  sky-reaching  vaults  into  which  they  spring — there  is 
something  more  like  Westminster  Abbey  in  the  great  clus 
ters  of  the  shafts,  seemingly  bound  together,  like  the  Ro- 
man fasces,  by  the  circling  crevices  of  the  great  stones  ; 
while  the  pierced  upper  galleries  are  again  riotably  like 
Notre  Dame.  One  seems,  beneath  that  vaulted  roof,  and 
over  that  acre  of  pavement,  to  stej)  with  the  freedom  of 
sunshine  and  turf,  with  no  thought  of  being  confined  with- 
in a  mere  building — till  a  pause  is  found  at  the  splendid 
organ,  hanging  like  a  bird's  nest  of  elaborate  sculpture 
between   two  clusters   of  columns   at  the   height   of  the 


STRASBOURG    AXD    BAB  By.  353 

upper  galleries — and  the  pulpit  (believed  to  be  the  finest  in 
Europe),  in  which  frostwork  and  cobwebs  appear  to  have 
been  hardened  into  stone,  so  light,  so  airy,  so  graceful  be- 
yond description,  is  every  detail  of  sexangular  chaire  and 
canopy.  And,  turning  from  these  there  are  side-chapels  of 
such  beauty,  and  displaying  such  reckless  cost  in  the  altar- 
appointments  of  solid  gold  and  silver,  and  the  marvelous 
beauty  of  some  of  the  paintings  overhanging  the  shrines, 
that  the  almost  shocking  extravagance  of  the  leading 
Parisian  churches  seems  fully  equaled,  and  one  pauses 
again  to  consider  how  much  of  absolute  worship  there  may 
be  in  lavishing  wealth  upon  God's  temples,  and  how  much 
of  nothing  else  than  slavish  heathen  idolatry. 

But  the  Cathedral  (or,  as  they  call  it  locally,  the  "  Miin- 
ster")  is  not  the  only  religious  house  in  Strasbourg  worthy 
of  marked  attention.  The  very  old  church  of  St.  Tliomas, 
the  origin  of  which  seems  to  go  far  beyond  the  Crusades,  and 
then  be  lost  in  the  mists  of  uncounted  years,  just  as  we 
lose  a  mountain  in  distance, — this,  with  its  contents,  forms 
really  the  second  feature  of  the  city.  .Vrchitecturally, 
without,  it  is  nothing,  merely  looking  very  old,  low, 
gloomy,  and  massive.  Within  it  is  but  a  group  of  very 
heavy  vaults  and  arches,  actually  seeming  moldy  and 
fungus-like,  with  the  shutting  out  of  the  daylight  for  so 
many  centuries.  But  here  lies  recessed  one  of  the  most 
interesting  religious  relics  in  France — the  sculptured  stone 
sarcophagus  of  Bishop  Adeloque,  with  the  identity  and  the 
date  of  836,  both  rendered  authentic  by  the  Latin  inscrip- 
tions yet  decipherable,  and  the  days  of  the  Fathers  and 
the  Councils  brought  back  at  a  bound.  Here  stands  the 
elaborate  tomb  of  Marshal  Saxe,  a  noble  slab  obelisk,  re- 
cording his  victories  and  character,  a  full-length  statue  of 
the  warrior  fronting  it  at  the  base,  bordered  with  emblems 
of  conquered  nations,  and  below  a  coffin,  draped  and  sur- 
rounded with  weeping  figures ;  the  whole  not  unreasonably 


354  PARIS    IN    '67. 

reckonod  one  of  the  "lions  "  of  Strasbourg.  And  here,  in  a 
Btnall,  dingy  old  side  chapel,  if  possible  moldicr  and  more 
depressing  in  atmosphere  than  any  thing  else  within  the 
gloomy  old  Tvalls,  is  shown  the  saddest  spectacle  of  life 
fighting  death,  and  the  latter  winning  the  victory,  that  can 
well  be  conceived — the  embalmed  bodies  of  Count  Gusta- 
vus  Adolphus  of  Nassau-Salberg,  of  "the  sixteenth  century, 
and  his  girl-danghter  of  fourteen.  Both  lie  in  substantial 
wooden  coffins,  with  full-length  glass  lids ;.  and  much  of 
the  raiment  of  the  Count,  and  all  that  of  his  daughter,  is 
the  same  in  which  they  were  first  robed  after  embalmment. 
But  oh,  what  a  lesson  is  that  intact  but  coppery-parch- 
ment face  of  the  father,  with  the  lips  shrunken  away, 
the  teeth  grinning,  and  the  hard-dried  resin  lying  under 
the  shut  lids,  as  it  oozed  out  so  many  ages  ago — the  form 
shriveled,  the  rich  robes  tarnished,. and  all  pitiful  in  the 
efibrt  to  subvert  the  dictum,  "  dust  thou  art,  and  unto  dust 
thou  shalt  retm*n !"  And  how  yet  more  pitiful  is  the  sleep 
of  the  almost  baby-princess,  her  face  seeming  like  a  crum- 
bling egg-shell,  the  little,  thin  withered  atoms  of  hands 
crossed  on  the  breast,  the  height  of  burial-luxurj^  in  silks, 
velvets,  and  costly  Flanders  laces,  now  all  faded  and  dingy, 
dust  on  the  fair  hair,  and  yet  a  sparkle  remaining  in  the 
diamonds  that  still  clasp  finger  and  hang  in  the  withered 
ear  !  "  Bury  my  dead  out  of  my  sight !"  may  have  been 
a  sad  order  to  give,  on  the  part  of  the  old  patriarch  who 
uttered  it ;  but  he  did  a  better  and  wiser  thing  than  he 
would  have  done  had  he  ordered  them  embalmed  with 
eastern  spices,  to  be  some  day  unrolled  as  scientific  mum- 
mies, or  made  into  a  solemn  ghastly  show,  like  that  of  the 
Count  of  Nassau-Salberg  and  his  poor  little  daughter. 

Strasbourg  has  yet  two  more  features  that  must  be 
briefly  touched  before  rolling  away  Badenward — its  old 
houses  and  its  storks.  Beautiful  old  houses,  many  of  them 
with  much  the  same  features  noticeable  in  the  older  Ens- 


STRASBOURG    AKD    BADEN.  355 

lish  cities,  the  same  preponderance  of  upper  stories  over 
lf)wer,  the  same  timber-and-plaster,  the  same  sharp-pitched 
roofs  and  many  small  square-paned  windows.  Most  of 
the  finest  Strasbourg  antiques  stand  around  and  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  Cathedral;  though  the  whole  city 
may  be  said  to  be  studded  with  them.  There  is  one,  bear- 
ing date  of  the  fourteenth  century,  very  near  the  "  Mini- 
ster," a  corner-house  of  four  stories  beside  the  attic,  with 
the  whole  corner  chamfered  away  in  building,  giving  it 
really  three  fronts,  and  the  very  handsomest  thing  of  its 
class  in  memory.  All,  to  remove  that  America- ward,  and 
have  it  for  a  shoAV  and  a  relief  to  eyes  too  weary  of  the 
new  !  And  there  are  two  immediately  opposite  the  Cathe- 
dral, and  only  across  the  street  from  it,  both  gable-fronted, 
sharp-peaked,  and  of  singular  interest.  The  first  and 
larger,  of  stone,  stuccoed,  is  interesting  from  its  seven 
stories,  four  of  them  above  the  level  of  the  eaves,  and  its 
finish  of  barge-board  into  a  flight  of  steps  ;  the  second, 
also  of  stone  and  stuccoed,  overtops  it  altogether,  in  the 
elaborate  outside  finish  of  its  six  stories,  its  having  been 
built'  by  one  of  the  architects  of  the  Cathedral,  and  its 
alleged  age  of  nine  hundred  years  ! 

This  second  house — the  "old  house"  pnr  excellence  of 
Strasbourg — increases  instead  of  diminishing  in  interest  as 
one  enters  it ;  for  it  has  a  spiral  staircase  of  stone,  extend- 
ing from  ground-floor  to  roof,  the  curves  the  most  perfect 
thing  imaginable  throughout,  and  the  labor  that  must  have 
been  bestowed  in  cutting  step  and  rail  (as  they  come  op- 
posite) from  the  same  block  of  stone,  really  enough  to 
make  the  head  ache  in  contemplating  it.  The  Captain 
(architectural  authority,  again)  pi'onounced  it  the  finest  bit 
of  work  that  he  had  ever  seen  ;  and  I  am  not  sure  but  he 
might  have  concluded  to  spend  the  balance  of  his  life  on 
those  marvelous  stairs,  had  there  not  been  other  curiosities 
to  draw  him  away.     Other  curiosities  there  were  in  plenty 


356  PARIS    I^    '67. 

— all  the  old  statuary  torn  and  tumbled  down  from  the 
Cathedral  in  ravage  or  renewal — some  of  it  fine,  but  much 
of  it  odd  or  hideous ;  and  to  crown  all,  the  wilderness  of 
machinery  of  the  other  and  larger  clock,  said  once  to  have 
held  the  place  of  the  present,  besides  the  original  gilt 
wooden  cock,  about  six  feet  in  length,  but  now  defunct 
and  badly  split  open  at  the  back,  that  the  exhibiting 
woman  had  learned  English  enough  to  pat  feelingly  on  the 
ruptured  torso  (if  birds  have  torsos,  which  may  be  a  ques- 
tion), and  lament  that  '■He  boa  petit  coq  nialheureux  would 
nevare  crow  no  more  for  les  gentilhommes — nevare !" 

There  only  remains  to  say  a  word  of  the  storks  that 
seem  to  be  the  tutelary  divinities  of  the  place.  From 
'  what  historical  incident  or  legend,  I  am  quite  in  the  dark ; 
but  for  some  no  doubt  sufficient  cause,  the  upper  part  of 
the  town  (that  part  in  tJie  air)  has  been  quite  given  over 
to  their  possession ;  and  they  are  not  only  allowed  but 
protected  and  welcomed  in  building  their  nests  where,  in 
other  districts,  they  would  be  at  least  considered  "  in  the 
way" — i.  e.,0}i  the  toj)s  of  all  the  chiiiDieys!  How  the 
smoke  gets  out,  with  such  an  obstruction  as  their»long 
reedy  nests  to  prevent,  is  the  business  of  the  owners  of  the 
chimneys,  and  not  mine ;  but  it  all  seems  odd  as  pictu- 
resque, especially  as  at  no  moment  will  one  fail  to  see  dozens 
of  nests  in  any  given  direction,  with  huge  birds  standing 
and  flapping  wings  on  the  tops,  and  scores  and  even  hun- 
dreds slowly  sailing  hither  and  thither,  their  long  necks 
outstretched,  and  their  long  legs  depending  as  if  they  had 
been  unjointed  at  the  body  and  hung  useless.  They  must 
be  learned  birds,  too,  I  fancy;  for  there  is  a  strong,  massive 
bronze  statue  of  Guttenberg,  the  (alleged)  fiither  of  print- 
ing, standing  not  far  from  the  Church  of  St.  Thomas,  with 
several  bass-reliefs  of  world-famous  groups  decorating  the 
base  (among  others,  one  embodying  Washington,  Franklin, 
Hancock,  and  most  of  the  other  leading  worthies  of  the 


STRASBOURG    A^D    BADEN'.  357 

American  Revolution) ;  and  around  that  statue  the  storks 
seem  to  be  always  circling  more  numerously  than  elsewhere, 
as  if  rtiey  kneAV  something  pleasant  of  the  old  type-sticker, 
and  had  taken  his  effigy  under  their  especial  protection. 

But  of  the  pates  de  foies  gras  (en  Anglais.,  "pies  of  fat 
[goose]  livers"),  without  the  eating  of  which  it  is  treason 
to  visit  Strasbourg — were  they  neglected  entirely  in  the 
rush  of  sight-seeing  through  the  notable  old  town  ?  Far 
be  it  from  the  Governor  and  his  party  to  be  guilty  of  such 
an  outrage  on  all  the  proprieties !  Ask  the  Gipsy  Queen 
what  merriment  there  was  around  the  little  table  at  the 
ViUe  de  Paris,  that  night  when  we  mixed  the  terrines  de 
pates  with  certain  hoiiteilles  de  Sllleiy  to  prevent  danger  to 
our  digestion, — towards  the  close  of  which  operation  the 
Captain  felt  the  necessity  of  making  a  patriotic  speech 
while  Lady  Eleanor  sang  "Aiieen  Aroon ;"  and  Young 
Hawesby  related  the  affecting  story  of  bis  first  love  (the 
Gipsy  Queen  aforesaid  whistling  an  accompaniment)  ;  and 
Anna  Maria  unaccountably  mistook  host  Rufenacht  for  one 
of  his  own  waiters,  and  sent  him  up  stairs  for  a  fresh 
pocket-handkerchief  to  dry  the  Governor's  fast-flowing 
tears  at  the  im230ssibility  of  gormandizing  more  than  two- 
thirds  of  the  last  pate. 

Baden-Baden  is  at  once  the  shortest  and  longest  of  rail- 
way rides  from  Strasbourg.  The  shortest  in  distance  (not 
more  than  thirty  or  forty  miles,  at  most),  and  the  longest  in 
the  infinite  variety  of  changes  (I  should  like  to  use  a  stronger 
word  than  ''infinite")  from  one  train  to  another  and  one 
side  of  a  station  to  another,  not  to  mention  the  vexatious 
custom-house  examination  of  satchels  and  hand-bags  at 
Kebl  (leaving  France  and  entering  Germany),  a  few  miles 
from  Strasbourg,  and  at  a  crossing  of  the  broad  poplar  and 
willow-banked  Rhine,  that  would  be  higlily  picturesque 
under  less  perplexing  circumstances.  I  have  no  recollec- 
tion precisely  how  many  changes  there  are  between  Stras- 


358  PARIS    IN   '67 

bourg  and  Baden,  nor  how  many  hours  they  really  consume; 
but  I  know  that  an  English  fellow-passenger,  who  looked 
like  a  man  of  veracity,  assured  me  that  it  was  a  habif  with 
the  more  intelligent  of  his  countrymen,  after  riding  that 
road  once,  always  to  take  a  travcling-cariiage  over  an 
hundred  or  two  miles  of  the  Black  Forest,  on  return,  or, 
failing  that  resource,  to  remain  and  die  quietly  at  the  point 
they  had  reached,  rather  than  go  through  the  same  vex- 
ation a  second  time,  I  more  than  half  suspected,  by-the-by, 
after  a  few  hours'  sojourn  at  B:id3n,  that  the  most  of  them, 
who  happened  to  have  been  coming  that  way,  "  remained 
and  died,"  as  very  few  would  have  had  money  enough  left, 
after  the -regulation  visits  to  the  Conversation-House,  to 
hire  a  hand-cart,  much  less  a  traveling-carriage. 

Few  places,  of  all  the  world,  are  better  known  to  read- 
ers than  Baden-Baden,  called  by  the  double  name  to  dis- 
tinguish it  from  another  Baden  (literally  "  Bath  ")  in  Swit- 
zerland ;  and  yet  it  is  doubtful  whether  one  in  twenty  of 
mere  readers  who  have  never  happened  to  visit  it,  under- 
stands its  location  or  its  relation  to  the  great  gambling 
saturnalia  of  the  continent.  Its  celebrity,  in  name,  has 
arisen  from  the  many  scenes  in  novels  and  dramas  laid 
there  on  account  of  its  gayety,  its  mixed  society,  and 
its  age,  as  compared  with  the  other  play-centers ;  the 
actual  want  of  knowledge  is  derived  from  the  habit  of 
writers,  of  merely  dragging  in  the  name  and  describing 
some  scene  at  a  gaming-table  or  on  promenade,  which  (given 
the  tables  and  a  little  mixed  society)  might  as  well  have 
occurred  anywhere  else  in  Europe.  If  I  am  just  a  trifle 
tedious,  then,  in  indicating  locations,  while  only  hinting  at 
what  every  one  else  describes,  let  the  cause  be  found  in  the 
above  not-too-intelligible  paragraph. 

There  are  three  great  gambling-centers  in  the  German 
States,  besides  other  and  minor  ones  there  and  every- 
where.     Each   is  in  a   *'  Duchy "  of  the  ten-mile-square 


STRASBOURG    AND    BADEN.  359 

order,  and  exists  by  government  establishment,  paying 
round  sums  to  the  Ducal  treasury.  Each  (they  say)  is  to 
have  its  quietus  in  1870,  the  new  Prussian  rule  being- 
averse  to  any  gambling  less  extensive  than  that  in  which 
States  supply  the  stakes.  The  first,  and  oldest  in  the 
ruinous  detail,  is  this  Baden-Baden,  in  the  Grand  Duchy 
of  Baden,  some  twenty  or  thirty  miles  south  of  Carlsruhe, 
the  capita],  and  half  that  distance  eastward  from  the 
Rhine.  The  second  is  Weisbaden,  capital  of  the  Grand 
Duchy  of  Nassau,  lying  a  few  miles  northward  from  the 
Rhine,  a  little  beyond  Mayence  ;  and  the  third  is  Hom- 
berg,  capital  of  the  Grand  Duchy  of  Hesse-Horaberg, 
lying  far  west  from  the  Rhine  at  Mannheim,  hali'way  to 
the  French  frontier. 

I  am  inclined  to  doubt  whether  there  are  many  lovelier 
spots  on  the  earth  than  this  same  Baden-Baden,  consider- 
ing it  naturally  or  artistically.  It  lies  in  a  soft,  sweet  little 
valley,  with  a  broad  plain  stretching  westward  toward  the 
Rhine,  a  rapid  little  tributary  of  that  river  running 
through  it  and  seeming  to  give  it  life  and  motion,  while  on 
three  sides  of  it  rise  the  rugged  hills  of  the  Black  Forest, 
the  intense  darkness  of  their  pines  and  firs  seeming  espe- 
cially intended  to  relieve  the  gem  of  quiet  and  yet  varied 
beauty  lying  in  their  bosom.  And  certainly  the  hand  of 
man  has  well  seconded  that  of  the  Divine  Architect,  for 
the  comparatively  modern-looking  town  is  built  handsomely 
as  well  as  substantially,  of  yellowish  freestone,  and  the 
most  exquisite  taste  seems  to  have  presided  over  the  pre- 
servation of  shade,  the  planting  of  shrubberies,  the  keej)- 
iug  clean  of  streets,  and  the  arrangement  of  winding  walks 
"by  the  little  river-side  and  around  the  rolling  uplands, 
making  the  fashionable  center,  near  which  stand  the  lead- 
ing hotels  as  well  as  the  public  buildings,  little  else  than  a 
dream  of  enchantment. 

It  is  in  the  midst  of  such  beauties  as  are  here  faintly  in- 
16 


360  PARIS    I^    '67. 

dicated,  on  a  sloping  lawn  stretching  back  from  the  river 
toward  the  first  rise  of  the  Black  Foi'est  hills,  amid  shades 
where  all  evergreens  abound,  but  the  dark-leaved  linden 
principally  predominates  in  summer, — tliat  all  those  objects 
are  located,  about  which  interest  clusters  at  Baden-Baden. 
The  Conversation-House,  the  Drink-Hall,  the  Promenade- 
Grounds,  the  Theater.  The  latter  is  a  large  and  very- 
handsome  detached  building,  creating  the  impression  of 
being  at  least  a  government  hall,  standing  a  hundred 
yards  below  the  foot  of  the  Promenade-Grounds,  and  at 
the  left  ascending.  They  say  it  is  also  very  handsome 
within,  and  that  excellent  operatic  performances  are 
given  there — the  latter  of  which  I  am  inclined  to  believe, 
and  the  former  to  doubt,  from  the  fact  of  its  being  in 
Germany.  And  now  to  the  Promenade-Grounds  and  its 
special  buildings,  to  which  even  the  theater  is  altogether 
secondary. 

These  grounds  may  cover  eight  or  ten  acres,  lying  nearly 
square  and  sloping  upward  toward  the  west-north-west 
— the  foot  on  one  of  the  princii^al  streets  of  the  town,  the 
head  at  the  Con-\'ersatiou-House,  the  center  an  exquisite 
arrangement  of  lawn,  trees,  shrubbery  and  flowers,  and 
the  favorite  walk  graveled  and  seated  entirely  around  it ; 
while  along  the  foot  of  this  walk,  and  on  the  left  side 
in  going  up,  stand  rows  of  little  shops  in  which  some  of 
the  costliest  goods  in  Europe  are  offered  for  sale  to  those 
whose  purses  have  not  yet  been  depleted — silks,  velvets, 
fine  laces,  and  soft  German  woolens ;  jewelry  of  the 
rarest,  beginning  at  diamonds  and  ending  at  coral  (the  lat- 
ter a  specialty  of  Baden);  silver,  porcelains  and  Bohemian 
glassware  of  the  most  exquisite  delicacy;  bijouterie,  fancy 
articles,  and  indeed  nearly  every  thing  that  can  tempt  eye 
and  pocket.  (Luxurious  Anna  Maria  was  so  tempted,  our 
first  day,  that  half-way  np  she  was  obliged  to  employ  a 
small  boy  to  carry  back  her    purchases  to  the   Hotel 


STRASBOURG    AND    BADEN.  361 

d'Angleterre,  and  farther  on  a  full-grown  porter,  who 
beckoned  for  an  assistant.) 

The  Conversation-House,  or  "Kursaal,"  so  celebrated 
in  tale,  drama,  and  personal  ruin,  stands  across  the  head 
of  the  grounds — a  very  large  plain-looking  Grecian  build- 
ing in  three  sections,  the  center  of  two  stories,  with 
a  range  of  massive  columns  and  a  noble  piazza  (very  like 
that  at  the  Cattskill  Mountain  House)  thrown  forward 
beyond  the  lower  extensions  or  wings.  The  central  por- 
tion is  the  "Conversation  "  (gambling)  "Hall;"  the  right 
wing  (looking  from  the  building)  is  the  Library,  and  the 
left  supplies  the  Restaurant,  so  necessary  for  those  who 
cannot  leave  play  long  enough  to  go  to  dinner !  There  is 
a  very  handsome  Persian  music-pavilion  a  little  to  the 
right  and  forward  of  the  right  front,  where  some  of  the 
best  bands  in  Germany  play  during  certain  hours  of 
the  afternoon  and  evening,  in  the  "  full  season ;"  and 
it  is  across  from  this  to  the  opposite  side  of  the 
grounds,  immediately  in  front  of  the  building,  that 
most  of  the  promenading  takes  place,  and  such  a  mixture 
of  society  may  be  found,  from  princes  to  puzzle-venders, 
from  fashionables  to  flower-girls,  from  countesses  to 
cocottes,  from  bankers  to  "  beaks,''  and  charming  women 
to  chevaliers  (V Industrie,  as  cannot  well  be  matched  else- 
where in  Europe  than  at  corresponding  Weisbaden  or 
Homberg. 

The  Drink-Hall  (German  "  Trinkhalle  ;"  English  "  Pump- 
Room ;"  American,  "  Spring-House "),  a  long  building 
much  more  chaste  in  order  than  the  Conversation-House, 
and  with  the  whole  front  one  magnificent  piazza  of  full 
height — stands  at  the  edge  of  the  Promenade-Grounds, 
without,  some  distance  in  front,  and  to  the  left  of  the 
more  attractive  erection.  It  has  all  nameable  conveniences 
for  drinking  and  bathing,  within  ;  and  the  warm  water  of 
the  celebrated  springs  (not  half  so  offensive  as  most  spa- 


362  PARIS    TN    '67. 

waters,  in  spite  of  the  warmth)  is  ever  flowing,  free  for  all; 
but  by  flir  the  greatest  curiosity  connected  with  the  Drink- 
Hall  lies  without,  under  that  broad  piazza.  This  is  to  be 
found  in  the  range  of  noble  frescoes,  some  eight  or  ten  in 
number,  each  filling  one  of  the  panels  of  the  covered  front, 
each  illustrating  some  passage  in  Badenese  legend  or  the 
weird  superstitions  of  the  neighboring  Black  Forest,  and  all 
works  of  art  deserving  the  highest  admiration  in  their 
walk.  I  think  that  there  is  nothing  at  Baden-Baden  bet- 
ter deserving  remembrance  than  those  pictures  ;  as  there 
are  certainly  few  legends  more  entertaining  than  those  of 
the  Lurleish  knightly  adventures  which  they  commemo- 
rate. 

But  all  this  while  nothing  has  been  said  of  the  interior 
of  the  Conversation-House — that,  after  all,  for  which 
people  flock  to  Baden-Baden,  the  players  to  play,  and  the 
"  lookers-on  in  Vienna  "  to  make  their  notes,  and  sometimes 
to  tumble  unconsciously  into  the  vortex  and  become  the 
observed  instead  of  the  observers.  In  magnificent 
columned  halls,  then,  with  frescoes,  gilding,  and  hangings 
of  the  richest  that  lavish  wealth  can  purchase,  long  table 
after  long  table  is  set,  from  early  morning  till  the  closing 
hour  of  eleven  at  night ;  each  table  covered  with  green 
cloth  and  the  emblematic  marks  of  the  Demon  of  Chance, 
and  bearing  either  the  requisite  machinery  of  roulette 
or  that  of  rouge  et  noir — neither  of  which  games  have  I 
the  necessit}''  or  the  intention  of  describing.  And  around 
those  tables,  by  daylight  and  by  gaslight,  sit  players  in 
their  chairs,  and  crowd  other  players  and  spectators  close 
behind  them — the  most  decorous  silence  observed  and 
enforced,  except  now  and  then  a  word  foiling  from  the 
croxipiers  who  rake  in  or  distribute  the  won  or  lost  gold 
and  silver,  with  the  undertone  of  rustling  bank-bills,  and 
the  soft  clinking  of  coins  accidentally  touching  each  other 
in  throwing  or  removal. 


STRASBOURG    ARD    BADEIT.  363 

The  players — what  of  them? — and  svhat  of  the  stakes? 
Of  the  latter  a  brief  word,  and  that  first.  They  are  of 
every  size  and  amount,  from  the  silver  five-franc,  German 
crown  or  dollar,  to  the  gold  Napoleon,  single  or  by  hand- 
fuls,  and  so  on  up  to  the  hiUet chchanque,  which  may  rejjre- 
sent  five  hundred  francs  or  ten  thousand.  Nothing  (the 
five-francs  once  reached)  seems  too  small  for  the  tooth  of 
the  devouring  monster ;  nothing,  even  when  the  thou- 
sands are  counted  by  hundreds,  seems  too  large  for  his 
ingulfing  maw.  And  the  players — who  and  what  are 
they  ?  Ah,  who  and  what  are  they  not  ?  Men  of  all  ages, 
of  all  nations,  and  apparently  of  all  ranks  and  conditions — 
princes,  peers,  pickpockets — if  I  do  not  mistake  me,  some- 
times the  very  valets  and  waiters  at  the  hotels,  playing 
with  the  guests  just  served  at  dinner!  They  say  that 
"  misery  makes  us  acquainted  with  strange  bed-fellows ;" 
so  does  gambling.  The  page  would  not  be  half  perfect  if 
a  pause  was  made  here,  nor  would  a  tithe  of  the  evil  be 
indicated.  For  the  men  do  not  play  alone,  or  even  princi- 
pally— at  least  half  the  ventures  at  the  Baden  tables  are 
made  by  women  !  Women,  like  the  men,  of  all  ages, 
classes,  and  conditions  ;  all  the  elder  and  harder,  as  matter 
of  course,  and  not  a  few  of  the  young,  the  beautiful,  and  the 
innocent-looking  !  The  Russian  Countess  with  whom  the 
Gipsy  Queen  and  Lady  Eleanor  made  so  pleasant  an 
acquaintance  at  dinner — a  hard-faced  virago,  now ;  the 
pretty  girl  met  and  so  admired  on  promenade  this  after- 
noon ;  the  recognized  lorette ;  the  chambermaid. 

Hour  after  hour  such  a  circle  surrounds  each  of  the 
tables,  those  of  the  rouge  et  noir  witnessing  by  for  the 
heaviest  playing,  usually  ;  the  more  inveterate  gamblers 
seated,  pricking  the  chances  with  pin-points  on  cards  also 
pinned  to  the  cloth  (whence  the  cant  phrase  "  Baden-Baden 
pin-holes  ") — heaps  of  gold  lying  before  them,  decreasing, 
increasing,  vanisliing;   the   more  casual  players   casting 


364  PARIS    IjV    '6  7. 

down  a  few  pieces,  winning,  losing,  moving  away  to  make 
room  for  others.  Behind  each  circle  a  crowd  of  lookers-on, 
only  less  excited  than  the  players  in  the  vicissitudes  of 
some  one  who  meets  with  peculiar  success  or  disaster ;  and 
not  a  few  of  them  in  more  danger  than  they  dream,  of 
some  day  (perhaps  here  and  now)  practicing  what  they  at 
first  regarded  with  wonder  and  horror. 

I  am  no  Hogarth,  nor  yet  a  Salvator  Rosa;  and  I  think 
that  I  should  need  to  be  both  to  paint  the  faces  and  figures 
of  a  Baden-Baden  gambling-table — the  nervous,  anxious 
brows  ;  the  eager,  bloodshot  eyes  ;  the  hard-set  lips  that 
tell  of  the  clinched  teeth  within  ;  the  clutching,  quivering 
hands  that  tremble  with  excitement  over  winning,  and 
half-dart  after  the  flying  coin  of  a  sudden  and  terrible  loss  ; 
the  demoniac  joy  that  marks  a  run  of  unusual  luck ;  the 
agony  and  desp:ur  of  the  damned  glaring  from  eye  and 
blasting  cheek,  when  the  last  hope  has  fled  with  the  last 
unit  of  a  squandered  fortune.  Few  observers  but  carry 
away  a  face  or  two,  to  be  long  remembered  ;  and  it  will  be 
long  indeed — will  it  not,  Anna  Maria  ? — before  you  and  I 
forget  one  flint-faced  harridan  who  sat  oj^posite  us  at  rouge 
et  noir,  and  played  steadily  and  fiendishly,  as  Mephisto- 
philes  might  have  done  for  a  soul  almost  won — and  one 
poor  fellow,  little  more  than  a  boy,  who  gasped  and  half- 
choked  as  his  last  Napoleon  went  into  the  vortex,  then 
turned  away  with  a  countenance  on  which  all  the  fiends 
had  been  writing  the  despair  of  the  lost,  and  staggered 
from  the  room  with  what  we  both  believed  to  be  the  full 
purpose  of  immediate  suicide ! 

Enough! — enough,  and  too  much!  Link  arm  in  mine 
and  drag  me  away,  little  woman  of  my  own  land,  where  at 
least  this  public  temptation  is  not  tolerated  !  Away  from 
the  fascinating  terror,  before  the  swirl  of  the  maelstrom  be- 
comes irresistible,  and  I,  too,  plunge  in  and  go  downward! 
Away,  with  only  a  glance  at  the  luxurious  retiring-rooms 


STRASBOURG    AXD    BADEN.  305 

in  some  of  which  sad  figures  seem  to  be  waiting  for  those 
who  never  come  away  from  the  perih^us  board — and  at  tlie 
yet  more  private  rooms  where  tlie  groups  are  only  of  three, 
or  four,  or  six,  and  the  cards  fall  softly  from  jeweled  hands, 
at  ruinous  "hazard."  And  then  out  into  the  cool  night-air 
of  the  Promenade-Grounds,  where  the  distant  music  will 
only  remind  us  of  the  feet  that  in  some  of  the  daneing-hnlls 
will  be  flying  till  morning, — and  of  the  night,  now  many 
years  ago,  when  the  first  polka  ever  composed  was  danced 
in  that  very  Ivursaal,  with  two  duels  and  thi-ee  stark  bodies 
its  consequence  before  daylight ! 

Ah,  morning  and  daylight ! — when  the  gamblers  will  be 
sleeping  away  debauch  or  despair,  and  when  we,  with 
neither  to  dread,  will  be  looking  back  to  the  beautiful, 
fearful,  evil  attraction,  from  scenes  so  different  though  so 
near.  For  we  shall  be  driving,  then,  over  the  miles  of 
splendid  road  that  lead  away  to  the  royally-standed  and 
turfed  race-circle  of  the  Cows  de  Bade ;  or  wandering 
through  the  subterranean  passages  w^here  yet  the  instru- 
ments of  death  and  torture  remain,  from  the  days  when 
the  dreaded  "  Yehmgericht"  ruled  prince  and  peasant 
alike  with  a  sword  of  dark  and  cruel  justice;  or  gazing 
over  Baden-Baden,  the  dusky  hill-country,  and  the  distant 
Rhine,  from  the  ruined  gateway  and  crumbling  walls  of 
that  grim  old  robber-hold,  the  Alt  Schloss,  beneath  the 
mossed  and  melancholv  firs  of  the  Black  Forest. 


XXIX. 

THE   SUN-BUEST   OVER   IRELAND. 

"  See  ! — there  is  the  '  Irish  sun-burst,'  now !"  cried  a 
little  lady,  clapping  her  hands,  as  we  were  running  up 
toward  Cape  Clear  on  the  morning  of  first  making  the 
Irish  coast — when  the  sun,  till  then  behind  a  tbick  bank  of 
clouds,  burst  through  a  rift  and  sent  a  shower  of  golden 
arrows  down  on  the  mountains  of  Cork  and  Kerry.  I 
thought  the  play  on  words  a  happy  one  ;  for  scarcely  even 
Erin's  harp  of  gold  on  a  field  of  green  tilled  the  phrase 
60  well ;  and  I  said :  "  If  I  ever  succeed  in  landing  in 
Ireland,  and  afterward  record  my  impressions,  the  '  Sun- 
burst over  Ireland '  shall  be  the  title."      Voildf 

The  sun-burst  was  very  brief  that  morning ;  so  was  my 
A'isit  to  the  Green  Island,  caught  when  the  Captain  and  all 
my  other  pleasant  traveling-companions  had  dropped  away 
for  more  of  the  Continent,  for  Wales,  Scotland,  the  "  Black 
Xorth,"  tfcc,  and  when  I  almost  fancied,  as  I  landed,  that 
I  could  hear  the  blowing  steam,  at  Liverpool,  of  the  "  City 
of  London  "  coming  to  pick  me  up  at  Queenstown.  But 
much  may  be  accomplished  in  three  days,  bt/  an  America7i, 
at  this  period  of  railways  and  fast  steamers,  as  I  had  before 
made  proof  in  my  Scottish  experience;  and  three  days 
gave  me  glimpses  of  Dublin,  Cork,  and,  Killarney — centers 
of  interest  of  the  South  of  Ireland — if  they  afforded  me  no 
more. 

Indeed,  I  began  with  the  "fast  steamers;"  for  the  four 


THE    SUN- BURST.  367 

paddle-wheel  iron  mail-packets  between  Holyhead  and 
Kingstown — the  Miinster,  Leinster,  "Ulster,  and  Connaught 
— are  boasted  to  be  among  the  stanchest  and  speediest  in 
the  world  ;  and  certainly  the  Connaught,  last  built  and 
largest  (port-dued  at  five  or  six  hundred  tons,  and  really 
measuring  more  than  two  thousand  !)  seems  worthy  of  the 
claim — a  powerful,  clipj^er-looking,  long,  low,  two  fore-and- 
aft  raking-funneled  black  monster,  capable  of  meeting  the 
roughest  waves  of  the  rough  Irish  Channel  without  a 
tremor,  and  of  doing  her  twenty  miles  an  hour,  eveu  in  a 
sea-way,  under  any  ordinary  circumstances  ! 

At  all  events,  she  bore  me  over  right  gallantly,  when  I 
ran  down  in  the  night  from  Liverpool  by  Chester,  crossing 
the  wild  Welsh  moors  and  rumbling  through  the  splendid 
tubular  bridge  of  the  Menai  just  at  early  daylight;  that 
is,  I  think  she  bore  me  over  gallantly.  There  seems  to  be 
a  blank  in  recollection,  shortly  after  coming  on  board  and 
going  through  a  yawning  admiration  of  the  vessel ;  and 
tradition  records  that  the  Governor  occupied  some  one 
else's  state-roora  and  slept  soundly  therein,  all  the  way 
across,  only  waking  in  time  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  bold, 
broad  Hill  of  Howth  lying  at  the  right  lip  of  Kingstown 
harbor  and  the  magnificent  light-housed  breakwater  de- 
fending it, — and  then  to  be  bundled  into  the  train  in  wait- 
ing on  the  wharf  for  the  short  run  of  a  few  miles  (perhaps 
four,  perhaps  ten)  from  Kingstown  port  to  Dublin  city. 

Fairly  on  Irish  soil  at  last,  after  so  many  years  of  wish- 
ing and  three  narrow  escapes  from  previous  visits.  Me- 
thinks  I  felt  the  brogue  coming  into  my  tongue  at  once, 
and  realized  the  necessity  of  saying  "  Musha,  bad  luck  to 
yez  !"  "Mavourneen  acushla  macliree  !"  "  Death  to  me 
sowl !"  and  "  Be  jabers  !"  at  the  earliest  possible  mo- 
ment when  those  classical  terms  could  be  brought  into 
use.  For  Paddy  was  there,  from  the  start — there,  person- 
ally and  in  atmosphere.  If  there  were  plenty  of  bathing- 
16* 


36S  PARIS    IX    '6  7. 

places  lining  the  shore  on  the  right,  as  we  ran  up  toward 
Dubhn,  and  if  many  of  the  walled  grounds  were  well  laid 
out,  hedged  and  handsomely  shaded, — did  not  the  low, 
irregular,  turf-roofed,  whitewashed  cabin  begin  to  heave 
into  view,  with  the  door-yard  (when  it  had  one)  a  mass  of 
debris  and  refuse,  the  domicile  of  the  pig  and  the  donkey 
plainly  perceptible  at  one  end  and  under  the  same  roof; 
and  Paddy  himself,  hosed,  breeched,  bad-hatted,  inevitably 
smoking  a  short  pipe,  and  very  shiftless-looking,  lounging 
at  the  door  or  making  slow  pretense  of  work  about  the 
yard  or  on  the  road  ?  There  was  much  ivy  on  the  walls 
and  sometimes  creeping  up  the  sides  of  the  cottages — that 
ivy  which  I  afterward  found  almost  universal,  and  of  such 
rapid  growth  that  scarcely  any  thing  could  be  kept  clear  of 
it ;  but  ah,  I  said  to  myself  then,  and  had  often  occasion  to 
repeat  the  remark  and  never  to  recall  it — had  not  a  corre- 
sponding ivy  of  carelessness  and  indolence  seemed  to  over- 
grow the  national  character  quite  as  decidedly,  whether 
from  something  native  to  the  soil,  or  under  the  influence 
of  the  long  cloudy- weather  of  oppression  and  dismal  pros- 
pect, who  shall  pretend  to  decide ! 

Here,  and  even  before  entering  Dublin,  let  me  say  a  general 
word  or  two  more,  that  may  save  the  necessity  of  many 
repetitions.  Ireland — southern  Ireland  at  least — is  among 
the  most  beautiful  of  lands  ;  its  sky  peculiarly  bright  while 
soft  (good  weather  understood) ;  its  atmosphere  balmy 
and  undeniably  healthy ;  its  sod  green  enough  to  justify 
the  appellation  of  "  Emerald  Isle ;"  its  mountains  pictu- 
resque, and  susceptible  of  a  peculiar  hazy  purple,  making 
them  lovely  in  distance  ;  its  cabins  charming  bits  for  the 
traveler  and  the  painter,  from  their  soft  rounded  shape, 
as  well  as  their  artistic  color  of  not-too-staring  white,  re- 
lieved by  brown  roof  and  surrounding  green.  The  eye  is 
pleased  in  all  this,  and  the  sense  of  the  beautiful  is  cer- 
tainly satisfied  as  it  can  be  in  but  few  countries  under  the 


TEE    SrX- BURST.  369 

sun  ;  but  there  an  eml.  The  judgment  is  any  thing  else 
than  satisfieii,  ordinarily;  for  Mr.  Pierce  Egan's  "trail  of 
the  serpent"  is  "over  all,"  in  the  shape  of  that  word  once 
before  used — shiftlessness ;  and  Miss  Ophelia,  who  was  only 
half-maddened  by  the  Topsey  surroundings,  would  have 
gone  stark  mad  over  the  make-shifts  of  Barney  and  Bridget. 
To  do  for  to-day  and  let  the  morrow  take  care  of  itself 
seems  to  be  the  predominant  characteristic ;  there  is  a  sense 
of:  "This  thing  cannot  last  and  is  not  expected  to  last — 
they  all  intend  to  move  away  in  a  day  or  two,  or  a  month 
or  two."  And  if  at  times  I  have  occasion  to  praise  with- 
out stint,  as  to  something  in  scenery  or  arrangement,  let  it 
be  remembered  that  there  is  generally  a  heart-ache  under- 
stood. And  now,  after  this  portion  of  a  "  sun-burst "  which 
might  better  be  designated  a  burst  of  ill-natured  and  pelt- 
ing rain,  and  after  having  vented  what  is  no  doubt  a  flilse- 
hood  to  half  of  the  visitors  to  Ireland,  and  the  merest  of 
platitudes  to  the  other  half — now  on  to  Dublin,  or  rather 
to  disembark  after  having  reached  that  metropolis. 

The  Irish  jaunting-car  is  an  "  institution " — as  impos- 
sible to  have  originated  elsewhere,  as  not  to  have  origin- 
ated in  this  particular  country.  It  seems  to  have  been 
built  on  the  national  plan  (for  to  me  Ireland  is  a  "  nation," 
even  if  no  Parliament  meets  and  wrangles  in  the  old  build- 
ing), of  going  it  at  a  gallop.,  and  everybody  holding  on. 
Scores  have  mentioned  riding  in  it,  but  who  has  described 
it?  Mr.  Barney  Williams  (a  great  favorite,  by  the  way, 
around  the  Lakes  of  Killarney,  whence  he  has  derived  so 
many  of  the  O'Donoghue  and  other  legends)  imported 
one  of  them  several  years  ago,  and  yet  not  many  of  the 
stay-at-homes  have  seen  it.  It  is  an  open  cart,  drawn  by 
one  horse,  rather  low  and  very  naiTow  wheeled,  with  a 
driver's  seat  in  front,  a  wide  cushion  fastened  lengthwise 
to  form  the  center,  and  a  narrower  cushion  on  each  side 
and  lower,  on  which  the  riders  half  sit  and  half  lounge, 


370  PARIS    IN    '67. 

facing  8ide"^nse  and  outward,  leaning  back  and  elbows  on 
the  liigher  cushion,  or  "  holding  on "  when  the  arrange- 
ment is  in  "full  bounce" — the  legs,  meanwhile,  hanging 
down  a  side-board  and  resting  on  a  sort  of  long  step  into 
which  the  side-board  turns  at  bottom.  Nothing  else  could 
seem  so  much  like  upsetting,  or  throwing  off  the  riders 
with  a  jerk;  and  yet  nothing  else  could -be  so  jolly,  so 
rattling,  so  go-ahead,  so  "precisely  the  ihmg'^— for  Ire- 
land;  nor  do  I  know  whether  Paddy  would  not  die  out 
or  suffer  a  worse  change  than  that  of  Bottom  into  the 
donkey,  were  either  this  particular  vehicle,  the  short  pipe, 
or  the  shillalegh  withdrawn  from  his  management. 

But  why  describe  the  jaunting-car  as  the  first  object  of 
interest  in  Ireland  ?  Simply  because  it  was  really  the  first 
thing  over  which  I  stumbled.  In  and  about  that  queer 
labyrinth  of  a  Dublin  Station,  out  of  the  lapped  walls  of 
which  one  gets  as  the  ring  squeezes  tightly  out  of  a  "  ring- 
puzzle,"  there  were  so  many  cars  that  the  whole  might 
have  been  a  field  and  they  the  plants — each  more  or  less- 
shabbily  harnessed  to  a  horse  rather  pony-ish  in  stature, 
generally  thin  and  bearing  the  marks  of  having  been 
habitually  persuaded  to  o^o  a  shade  faster  than  was  con- 
sidered indispensable  by  the  beast  itself;  Paddy  on  seat, 
duly  accoutered,  often  piped,  always  with  the  stump  of  a 
whip  in  hand,  calling  out  for  fares  with  Milesian  sly 
wit  in  the  very  words  of  the  invitation,  and  chaffing  other 
car-drivers  in  a  manner  yet  more  rough,  hearty,  and  reck- 
less. 

And  it  was  in  a  jaunting-car,  out  of  which  I  expected  to 
be  tipped  every  moment,  that  I  made  my  hasty  flight 
around  Dublin,  with  brief  occasional  pauses  and  alight- 
ments,  during  which  the  driver  di-opped  instantly  from  his 
seat  to  smoke  more  at  ease  on  the  ground,  and  the  horse 
went  quietly  to  sleep  between  the  shafts.  It  was  thus  that 
I  dashed  through  and  around  Merrion  Square,  pleasant  old 


THE    SU^-BURST.  371 

haimt  of  the  true  Irish  aristocracy,  where  yet  the  shade  of 
the  railed  square,  and  the  solid  look  of  the  old  brown  brick 
houses,  tell  of  undoubted  gentility,  even  if  faded.  By  Ste- 
phen's Green,  another  and  much  larger  square,  where 
executions  were  once  held,  and  many  a  true  patriot  and 
many  a  scoundrel  went  to  liis  account,  now  empty,  well 
shaded  at  the  edges,  though  a  little  bare  in  the  center, 
stone-posted  and  iron-chained  without,  and  a  fresh  deposit 
of  timber  indicating  that  it  might  soon  be  the  arena  of  a 
cattle-show !  By  and  into  the  Exhibition  Building,  so 
popular  in  1865 — lai'ge  and  handsome  but  irregular,  half 
stone  structure  and  half  crystal  palace;  part  of  it  still  used 
as  a  standing  exhibition  of  fruits,  flowers,  &c,,  and  the 
large  glass  hall  as  a  concert  hall  and  ball-room — the  whole 
with  extensive  and  handsome  gardens  behind,  and  unman- 
nerly two-legged  pigs  Iq  charge.  By  the  police  barracks, 
on  Upper  Nevin  Street,  with  high  crenelated  walls,  police- 
men drilling  in  the  manual  of  arms,  and  general  appearance 
of  "meaning  business."  By  and  into  (immediately  oppo- 
site) fine  old  St.  Patrick's  Cathedral,  of  which  Dean  Swift 
was  once  dean,  and  where,  if  the  impressive  outside  and 
massive  square  tower,  spire-crowned,  are  modern  or  a 
restoration,  and  if  much  of  the  handsome  Gothic  interior 
is  also  a  remodeling,  the  great  granite  arches  forming  the 
nucleus  and  visible  on  first  entering,  are  said  to  date  back 
to  370! 

St.  Patrick's  has  a  knightly  interest,  too,  coiTcsponding 
to  St.  Paul's  in  London  and  St.  George's  Chapel  at  Wind- 
sor;  the  seated  stalls  and  hanging  banners,  marking  where 
once  took  place  the  installations  of  all  the  Knights  of  St. 
Patrick,  as  in  the  others  those  of  the  Bath  and  the  Garter. 
The  sharp,  quizzical  face  of  Dean  Swift  stares  down  in  bas- 
relief  from  one  of  the  side-walls  near  the  entrance  ;  on  a 
handsome  altar-tomb  at  the  extreme  lies  a  marveloiisly 
efltective  and  characteristic  ^^^-j  of  the  late  Archbishop 


372  PARIS    IN    'G7. 

Whately,  giant  in  the  war  of  loi^ic;  a  handsome  bust  with 
inscription  tells  of  John  Philpott  Curran,  most  wicked  wit 
of  his  time;  and  monuments  to  Thomas  Jones,  Archbishop 
of  Dublin,  died  1619 — Roger  Jones,  Earl  of  Ranelagh, 
1620— Richard  Boyle,  Earl  of  Cork  and  Lord  Treasurer, 
1629 — these,  with  the  battle-torn  colors  of  the  Royal  Irish 
18th  Regiment,  and  many  other  suggestive  reminders  of 
their  prowess  and  loss  in  the  Indian  wars,  make  up  no 
small  proportion  of  interest  for  the  inside  of  St.  Patrick's, 
and  offer  attractions  for  a  quiet  day  instead  of  a  fleeting 
half-hour.  But  1  stayed  too  long,  even  then  ;  for  when  I 
emerged  again  from  the  door-way,  a  short-piped  specimen 
of  the  genus  Hibernicus  (strong  emphasis  on  the  last 
syllable),  "pitched  into  me"  a  little,  evidently  on  theolo- 
gical grounds. 

"  Wud  yez  give  me  a  light  to  me  poipe  ?"'  (seeing  me 
striking  a  match  for  my  extinguished  cigar).  "  Certainly, 
Paddy !"  (handing  over  the  match).  "  Maybe  ye  like 
dhawt !"  (pointing  to  the  building).  "  Of  course  I  do  ;  it  is 
a  fine  old  church,  and  has  a  good  many  interesting  monu- 
ments; don't  you  like  it?" — "Divil  burn  me  but  I  dorUt^ 
nor  tliim  as  likes  it,  aither  !" — "  Oh,  I  see !"  (a  dim  con- 
sciousness of  the  truth  beginning  to  creep  through  the 
Governor's  thick  skull) — "  you're  a  Catholic,  and  that  is 

Pi'Otestant ;   and  that's  what's   the  matter,  eh  ?"     " 

blazes,  but  I  awra,  dhawt  same  ;  and  sorra  many  more  av 

thim  'ud  be  trapesin  through  dhawt,  I'm  thinkin,'  if ." 

"Yes,  if  you  had  your  way;  but  don't  it  strike  you,  my 
friend,  that  if  you  would  pay  more  attention  to  the  means 
of  providing  yourself  with  a  sounder  pair  of  breeches,  and  a 
little  less  to  thinking  of  tearing  down  St.  Patrick's  and  mob- 
bing people  who  go  into  a  different  church  from  your  own, 
you'd  be  a  trifle  better  off?"  "  Yes,  by  the  Lord,  he  would  ! 
Terry,  aren't  ye  ashamed  of  yerself !  Give  him  a  shillin', 
yer  honor,  and  he'd  feel  betther  ;  only  that  he's  not  worth 


TEE    S  UX-  BURST.  373 

it !"  So  broke  in  my  driver,  coming  up  at  the  moment ; 
and  under  cover  of  that  reinforcement  I  jumped  on  my 
car  and  we  drove  away — I  wondering  the  wliile  whether 
the  time  ever  icoiild  come,  Avhen  men  ceased  to  make  the 
bitterest  of  enmities  oixt  of  the  ostensible  worship  of  the 
Prince  of  Peace,  and  whether  Ireland  would  or  would  not 
be  the  last  place  reached  by  that  moral  millennium. 

There  is  another  millennium,  too,  needed  for  Dublin — 
a  physical  one,  as  any  traveler  will  believe  ^ho  goes  down 
into  St.  Patrick's  Close,  Bull  Alley,  and  some  of  the  other 
streets  behind  the  Cathedral.  Then,  if  not  before,  he  will 
find  no  difficulty  in  believing  the  saying,  that  "  Dublin  is 
the  dirtiest  city  in  the  world  ;"  for  "  shiftlessness"  turns 
into  "  piggishness,"  thereanent,  the  smells  are  terrible,  and 
the  sights  of  poverty  and  wretchedness  only  less  so.  Mis- 
erable old  houses  ;  yet  more  miserable  old  shops,  selling 
every  thing  decayed ;  squalid  children  in  the  door-ways ; 
more  squalid  women,  inevitably  cloaked  and  bareheaded, 
wandering  aimlessly;  incomparably  squalid  girls,  with 
scarcely  rags  to  cover  them  decently,  crooning  low  bal- 
lads in  cracked  voices ;  indolence,  c[uarreling,  obscenity, 
blows — all  the  offensive  features  that  "  low  quarters  "  pre- 
sent in  American  cities,  but  all  appearing  to  be  intensified 
even  beyond  the  same  characteristics  in  the  dangerous 
parts  of  Glasgow  and  the  dirty  of  Old  London, 

On,  again  (yet  by  jaunting-car),  by  and  into  the  quad- 
rangle of  Dublin  Castle,  a  heavy  stone  pile,  on  what  seems 
to  be  the  highest  ground  in  the  city,  and  one  massive  round- 
tower  lending  it  height  and  dignity.  There  is  a  range  of 
columns  at  the  vice-regal  entrance,  v,'ith;n  the  quadrangle, 
and  troops  were  drilling  there,  with  a  reminder  that  "  the 
green  "  is  not  yet  "  above  the  red"  in  Ireland ;  but  I  con- 
fess that,  looking  on  the  dingy  old  pile  and  the  stone-paved 
yard,  I  was  all  the  while  thinking  much  more  of  Jack  Hin- 
ton  the  Guardsman,  Paul  and  Mrs.  Rooney,  O'Grady,  and 


ST"*  PARIS    IN    '6  7. 

the  uproarious  nonsense  wliich  Lever  has  woven  round  the 
place,  than  of  all  its  undeniable  historical  associations. 
And  something  of  the  same  feeling  assaulted  me  a  few. 
minutes  later,  in  front  of  Trinity  College— a  heavy,  long- 
columned,  four-storied,  gray  and  academic-looking  build- 
ing, which  has  given  out  a  world  of  learning  and  talent  to 
the  service  of  mankind,  but  which  always  seems  to  sug- 
gest, when  one  hears  of  it,  that  the  students  must  be 
"  ne'er-do-weels  "  and  "  hard  cases,"  and  always  at  jolly 
war  with  the  Proctor  and  the  Faculty. 

Somewhat  more  serious  was  the  feeling,  only  a  moment 
yet  later,  and  immediately  opposite,  looking  at  the  Bank 
of  Ireland,  low  but  imposing-looking,  circular-pointed, 
heavy-columned — and  remembering  that  it  held  Ireland's 
legislative  body  as  the  Parliament  House,  less  than  a  cen- 
tury ago — though,  to  be  sure,  Ireland  may  be  like  some 
other  countries  that  could  be  named,  needing  more  money 
and  less  legislation,  so  that  possibly  parliament  houses,  or 
even  congressional  halls,  may  change  to  banks,  and  the 
world  be  none  the  poorer  1  Then  another  feeling,  blend- 
ing the  recognition  of  propriety  and  audacity,  came  still 
a  little  later,  when  around  in  Thames  Street,  almost  within 
stone's  throw  of  the  Castle,  I  found  O'Connell  standing  at 
full  length  on  the  steps  of  his  old  Conciliation  Hall,  his 
retrousse  nose  as  defiant  as  ever,  and  his  whole  stony  atti- 
tude indicative  of  badgering  the  government  in  death  as 
in  life. 

Then  we  were  away  over  the  Liffey- — a  pretty  enough 
stream  with  some  very  handsome  bridges  and  a  fair 
amount  of  sliipping  showing  below — which  would  keep 
singing  in  my  ears  that  not  very  classical  quatrain  : — 

"An  Irishman  angling  one  day  in  the  Liffey 

That  runs  down  by  Dublin's  swate  city  so  fine — 
A  smart  shower  of  rain  falliag,  Pat,  io  a  jiffy, 
Crept  under  the  arch  of  a  bridge  with  his  line." 


THE    SUX -BURST.  375 

Away  into  handsome  Little  Sackville  Street,  with  its 
Grecian-fronted  post-office,  and  the  inevitable  Nelson  on  a 
tall  fluted  column  before  it — up  Frederick  Street  and 
away  toward  the  open  country  northward  and  eastward ; 
the  squalid  poverty  of  the  slums  changed  into  the  decent 
poverty  of  long  ro"ws  of  picturesque,  whitewashed,  stoue- 
thatched  cabins,  not  much  larger  than  kennels,  but  some- 
how inoffensive  even  in  the  misery  that  sits  and  smokes 
and  croons  at  the  doors ;  a  large  double  house  not  far 
away  betraying  a  significant  omen  in  the  sign  of  "  Dublin 
Female  Penitentiary,"  and  beyond  it  a  long,  low,  strong- 
looking  biiilding,  with  two  purposeless  centre-towers,  con- 
fessing Mountjoy  Prison,  so  well  known  in  late  Fenian 
history.  This,  a  wilderness  of  donkeys,  cai-ts,  begging- 
boys  and  squalid  people ;  a  little  episode  in  the  reply  of 
my  driver  to  my  assurance  that  "  if  the  day  was  hot,  it 
was  nothing  to  the  heat  in  America  " — that :  "  He'd  niver 
be  able  to  live  in  Ameriky  at-all-at-all,  wid  dhe  hate ;  but 
dhey  did  have  days  coiolcl  enough,  about  Dublin,  to  freeze 
dhe  brass  tail  aff  an  iron  monkey  !" — this  blended  wonder 
in  meteorology"  and  natuial  history,  and  then  Glasnevin 
Cemetery. 

A  level-lying,  quiet,  sweetly-shaded  and  admirably- 
kept  "  city  of  the  dead," — lacking  the  effects  of  hill  and 
lake  which  make  some  of  the  American  cemeteries  so 
lovely,  but  in  all  other  regards  the  very  ideal  of  its  class, 
and  by  far  the  handsomest  that  I  have  yet  seen  in  Europe. 
I  shall  not  soon  forget  the  quiet  beauty  of  its  shaded 
walks,  its  wealth  and  variety  of  flowers,  the  fragrance  of 
its  lime-trees,  the  songs  of  its  birds,  the  hum  of  its  bees, 
and  the  touching  and  simple  faith  of  many  of  its  inscrip- 
tions— besides  the  notable  and  most  praiseworthy  fact  that 
Catholics  and  Protestants  consent  to  slumber  quietly  side 
by  side  within  it!  Then  O'Connell  lies  in  a  charming 
raised  circle  in  the  centre,  the  tomb  open-screened,  and 


376  PARIS    IN   '6  7. 

ever-renewed  flowers  visible  on  the  exposed  bronze  coffin 
— though  the  monument  over  him  is  ouly  of  wood,  and 
they  are  making  preparations  to  remove  the  body  to  the 
base  of  the  Observatory-tower ;  as  they  say,  and  no  doubt 
say  well,  that  "  No  monument  is  high  enough  for  O'Con- 
nell,  that  cannot  be  gazed  upon  from  the  sea  by  every  one 
approaching  Ireland."  I  am  not  ambitious  of  picking  out 
cemeteries  for  personal  repose,  any  more  than  of  selecting 
premature  coffins :  if  I  were  so,  and  no  native  land  called 
me  home  to  sleep  in  its  bosom,  I  think  that  of  all  places 
in  memory  Glasnevin  best  fills  the  ideal  of  "  a  place  to 
rest  in." 

Hark  !  hush!  There  came  the  tolling  of  a  bell  from  the 
modest  and  handsome  little  chapel  standing  just  within  the 
entrance;  and  as  I  approached  the  gate,  passing  out,  I 
felt,  more  truly  than  for  many  a  long  year  before,  the  sad 
truth  of  that  Latin  couplet  which  so  many  remember  as  a 
school  exercise :  "  Pallida  mors,''^  &c.,  the  English  transla- 
tion expressing  the  sentiment  very  felicitously  : — 

"  Pale  death  with  equal  hand  unbars  the  door 
Of  lordly  hall  and  hovel  of  the  poor." 

For  up  to  the  gate,  from  without,  came  a  little  train,  on 
foot,  the  priest  walking  in  front,  a  boy  swinging  a  censer, 
the  cheap  coffin  borne  on  the  shoulders  of  four,  and 
mourning  poverty  visible  in  every  detail  of  the  scanty  pro- 
cession ;  and  almost  before  they  had  passed  in,  another 
came  up,  rich  hearse  nodding-plimaed,  carriages  by  the 
score,  evangelical  clergymen  in  scarfs,  and  bearers  making 
the  same  display,  the  coffin  in  rose-wood  and  silver,  and 
wealth  as  evidently  going  to  burial  as  poverty  had  been 
but  the  moment  earlier.  I  uncovered  to  the  first,  I 
remained  uncovered  for  the  second,  marking  the  diflierence 
in  burial,  creed  and  cost ;  and  I  could  not  avoid  silently 


THE    SUX-BUEST.  377 

repeating  a  suggestive  line  of  Simmons,  many  years  ago  in 
Blackwood  : — 

"  May  their  souls,  at  the  Judgment,  not  sever  as  wide  1" 

A  ride  around  the  Phoenix  Park,  the  lower  or  city-ward 
end  of  it  amply  shaded,  the  large  remainder  (for  it  must 
cover  hundreds  of  acres)  with  fine  drives,  but  a  paucity  of 
shade,  and  many  portions  of  it  dotted  with  fine  cattle  and 
deer;  a  glance  at  the  impretending  building  witli  hand- 
some grounds,  called  the  Viceregal  Lodge  and  at  present 
affording  residence  for  the  popular  JNIarquis  of  Abercorn  ; 
another  glance  at  the  bi'oad,  handsome  green  lawn,  at  the 
upper  end,  with  a  raised  stand  for  reviewing-officers, 
called  the  "  Fifteen  Acres"  and  supplying  the  well  known 
Dublin  ground  for  the  parade  of  troops ;  a  pause  of  a  few 
moments  under  the  brow  of  a  hill  in  the  same  neighbor- 
hood, to  see  two  stripling  Hibernians,  properly  seconded, 
go  through  a  mild  imitation  of  the  P.  R.  fistic  encounter, 
concerning  which  the  Governor  felt  the  strong  necessity  of 
giving  a  trifle  of  instruction,  coming  very  near  being 
flogged  for  his  pains ;  another  pause,  descending  the 
heights  fi-om  the  Phoenix  Park,  to  see  how  beautiful  a  pic- 
ture the  Irish  capital  really  made,  with  its  squalor  not  too 
near,  its  architectural  beauties  softly  prominent,  and  the 
fine  harbor  with  the  bold  Hill  of  Howth  stretching  away 
behind  it,  forming  a  charming  background  channel-ward — 
these,  and  the  flying  visit  was  OA-er.  Half  an  honr  later 
1  was  rolling  away  by  the  Great  Southern  and  Western 
Railway  for  Killarney  by  Mallow. 

There  are  few  rides  really  better  worthy  of  description 
than  that  from  Dublin  to  Mallow,  yet  that  description  must 
be  withheld.  There  was  a  glance  at  what  I  believe  to  lie 
the  handsomest  and  largest  race-course  in  the  world,  on 
the  breezy,  furze-dotted,  turfy  heights  of  the  "  Cun-agh  of 
Kildare  "  but  only  a  glimpse  of  the  great  barracks  where 


3T8  PARIS    IN    '67. 

twenty  thousand  soldiers  continually  encamp,  and  not  a 
"Wren"  visible  at  either  Newbridge  Station  or  Kildare. 
There  was  a  long  ride  over  the  Bog  of  Allen,  with  abundant 
l)asty  researches  into  the  mysteries  of  wet  moorland,  mis- 
erable though  picturesque  cabins,  bare-legged  girls  (growing 
better-looking  and  even  handsome,  as  we  ran  southward), 
and  the  spading  and  piling  to  dry  of  the  brick-heap-y  "  sods 
of  turf"  which  supply  fuel  and  thin  blue  smoke  to  neai-ly 
every  chimney  in  Ii'eland.  There  were  some  fine  old  ruins; 
many  notable  pictures  of  peasant  and  road-side  life ;  many 
charming  mountain-views,  principally  in  distance,  especially 
crossing  Limerick  and  approaching  Kerry.  I  did  not  see 
the  "Rakes"  at  thriving-looking  Mallow,  as  we  changed 
trains  there ;  or  I  did  not  know  them  if  I  did.  And  the 
delays,  from  the  constant  meeting  of  cattle  and  turf  trains, 
and  from  other  causes,  were  so  numerous,  that  it  was  well 
into  the  night  before  I  saw  the  Kerry  mountains  proper 
lifting  themselves  ahead  as  we  crossed  a  long  range  of 
broken,  cabin-dotted  bnt  apparently  almost  worthless  coun- 
try, and  neared  Killarney  Station.  I  had  just  waking  brain 
enough  remaining  to  understand  the  humbug  of  the  whole 
raft  of  car-drivers  endeavoring  to  persuade  me  to  go  any- 
where else  than  to  the  favorite  house  for  which  I  was 
inquiring,  and  from  which  only  the  best  sights  can  be 
obtained  and  the  riding  and  boating  most  conveniently 
enjoyed;  but  I  must  have  been  more  than  half  asleep  when 
at  last  I  succeeded  in  finding  the  proper  vehicle,  and  was 
rumbled  over  a  mile  of  dusky  but  excellent  road  to  the 
Lake  House,  in  the  "  Bay  of  Castle  Lough,"  at  the  foot 
of  the  Lower  Lake  and  within  fifty  feet  of  its  lapping 
waters. 

I  strongly  suspect  description  of  the  Lakes  of  Killarney 
— or  rather  attempted  description — to  have  been  already 
overdone ;  and  I  shall  at  least  not  fall  into  that  error.  Lit- 
tle more  than  a  word  of  them,  and  of  a  delicious  day  around 


THE    SUX-BURST.  379 

them  ;  though  many  pages  miglit  be  used  without  exhaust- 
ing the  feeling  of  admiration  that  they  inspire. 

A  delicious  day — I  said  it,  and  I  repeat  the  Temark — 
delicious  not  alone  in  weather  and  scenery,  both  delightful 
beyond  measure,  but  in  the  company  Avhich  chance,  or 
something  better  than  chance,  threw  in  my  way.  I  was 
alone,  from  causes  before  indicated — alone,  and  not  a  little 
sore-hearted  as  well  as  travel-worn,  and  victim  to  a  low 

fever;  and  in  Mr.  H S ,  a  quiet,  genial,  elderly 

Friend,  of  Carlisle,  and  his  wife  so  sweetly  and  matronly 
ripening  as  the  hair  whitened  on  her  brow,  who  kiudly 
allowed  me  to  share  their  boat  and  then  shared  my  car, 
for  the  two  excursions  of  the  day, — I  found  something 
nearer  to  perfection  in  casual  traveling-companionship  than 
is  often  vouchsafed  to  the  restless  and  run-about.  Had  I 
but  space  and  any  certainty  of  a  reader,  how  gladly  would 
I  tell  at  length  of  that  boat-excursion  around  all  the  three 
beautiful  and  varied  lakes,  so  mountain-set  as  to  seem  tur- 
quoises bordered  with  emeralds.  How  we  had  the  com- 
jjany  of  the  young  O'Donoghue,  guide  and  coxswain,  who 
knew  every  flower  on  the  banks,  every  legend  of  the  neigh- 
borhood, and  played  the  sax-horn  so  sweetly  under  the 
echoing  rocks,  that  the  "Meeting  of  the  Waters,"  the  "Last 
Rose  of  Summer,"  and  '•  What  will  You  Do  when  I  am 
Going,"  seem  to  have  ever  a  new  meaning  thenceforth. 
How  we  took  the  long  row  up  the  Lower  Lake,  with  Ross 
Castle  (Cromwell's  last  conquest  in  Ireland)  showing  its 
picturesque  ruins  on  the  island  half  hidden  by  a  curve  in 
the  northern  shore;  and  saw  the  worn  and  honey-combed 
rocks  protruding  everywhere  along  the  edge,  each  named 
after  something  of  the  mythological  and  legendary  O'Don- 
oghue More,  from  his  "Pulpit"  to  his  "Table,"  his  "Chair," 
his  "  Hen-and-Chickena,"  and  probably  even  his  "Tooth- 
brush." How  we  landed  and  rambled  around  Glena  Cot- 
tage, Lord  Kenmare's  handsome  half-Swiss  thatched  chalet, 


380  PARIS    IN    '67. 

on  sweet  little  Glena  Bay  and  under  the  rugged  mountain 
of  the  same  name,  at  the  very  head  of  the  Lower  Lake. 
How  Ave  ran  the  long  narrow  passage  between  the  Lower 
and  Upper  Lakes,  Avith  the  sweet  quiet  of  the  junction  of 
all  three,  called  the  "Meeting  of  the  Waters," — and  saw 
the  very  old  three-arched  stone  bridge,  called  the  "  Wier 
Bridge,"  with  its  mimic  rapids  below  and  its  memories  of 
the  time  of  the  Danes. 

How  we  found,  the  Upper  Lake  one  mass  of  iron-bound 
shore  and  arbutus-covered  islands,  with  dangerous,  precip- 
itous Macgillicuddy  Reeks  and  sweet  Purple  Mountain 
bounding  the  prospect  to  the  west  and  northwest ;  and 
near  us  the  boats,  gayly  decorated,  sweeping  by  with  other 
tourists,  and  making  the  foreground  humanly  beautiful. 
How  we  lunched  on  Ronan's  Island,  with  a  natural  rock 
table,  the  wild  bees  humming  around  us,  the  kindest  of 
hands  to  dispense  the  viands,  and  McCarthy  More's  and 
Eagle  Island  seeming  to  lie  by  us  like  sprawling  giants 
waving  their  fans  of  arbutus  to  keep  off  intruding  human 
flies.  How  we  made  the  passage  out  into  the  Middle  Lake, 
again  by  the  "  Meeting  of  the  Waters,"  with  the  wonder- 
ful echoes  of  Eagle's  Nest,  and  the  pretty,  l.ying,  carneying, 
black-eyed,  bare-legged  girls  who  waded  out  into  the 
water  and  sold  goats'-milk,  poteen  ("  On'y  just  taste  a  dhrap 
av  the  potheen,  yer  banner!" — girl  of  fourteen,  loquitur^ 
"  Sure  it'd  make  yer  hair  curl  like  modher's-milk,  more  be 
token  that  it'd  be  relavin'  a  poor  craythur  that  has  six 
childer  stharvin'  at  the  cabin,  the  day !"),  and  chains  made 
from  the  tails  of  the  famous  Kerry  ponies.  How  we  found 
the  Middle  Lake  islandless  but  rock-girt,  with  the  ruined 
tower  of  Muckross  Abbey  peeping  over  on  the  opposite 
southern  shore,  and  Muckross  Head  and  rugged  Tore 
Mountain  and  much  of  the  imaginary  scenery  made  doubly 
notable  by  the  "  Collegians"  and  its  after-thought  the  "  Col- 
leen Bawn."     How  we  made  the  passage  under  arched 


TEE    SVy-BURST.  381 

Brickeen  Bridge,  from  the  Middle  again  into  the  Lower 
Lake;  and  then  took  that  quiet,  enjoyable  dropping  home- 
ward, with  Moore's  lovely  Innisfallen  lying  soft  under  the 
westering  sun  that  was  weaving  a  mantle  of  royal  purple 
over  all  the  distant  mountains  sinking  away  behind  us. 

These  are  bat  pitiful  glimpses,  I  know ;  and  yet  nothing 
more  can  be  given  of  that  supplemental  ride  in  the  jaunt- 
ing-car, with  that  wonderful  short-winded  pony  that 
Dennis  praised  so  highly  and  "  spun,"  accordingly,  around 
the  Middle  Lake,  amid  such  perfection  in  timber  and 
shade  as  made  the  very  heart  ache  to  leave  it,  and  among 
such  glories  in  purple  flowering  heather  and  broom,  as 
shamed  the  Perthshire  Highlands  and  transferred  the  best 
"blush"  from  "Scotland's  cheek"  to  Ireland's.  Nothing 
more  of  rare  old  ruinous  Muckross  Abbey,  its  square 
tower  the  very  finest  ivy-grown  memorial  of  the  past  in  all 
recollection — its  grave-yard  with  the  tombs  so  entirely 
covered  by  the  i\'y  as  to  be  literally  hidden  beneath  it — its 
chancel  with  some  of  the  fine  gothic  windows  remaining, 
and  the  tombs  of  the  O'Donoghue  and  McCarthy  More 
sadly  recalling  the  long-gone  days  of  Ireland's  savngc 
glory — its  crypt  and  cloisters  dating  back  to  1140 — its 
giant  yew-tree  in  the  midst  of  the  ivy-drooped  court-yard 
— its  whole  effect  equally  romantic,  beautiful,  and  depress- 
ing. Nothing  more,  and  scarcely  even  so  much  of  the 
ride  by  (M.  P.)  Herbert's  handsome  many-gabled  resi- 
dence, "  Muckross,"  away  over  Biickeen  Bridge  (so  lately 
passed  lender) ;  around  the  head  of  the  Middle  Lake,  and 
homeward  by  the  southern  side  ;  the  most  glorious  of 
glimpses  over  the  scattered  lakes,  continually ;  Tore 
Mountain  frowning  almost  overhead  during  much  of  the 
return  ride ;  and  innumerable  scarfs  of  foamy  white  water 
flung  down  the  high,  dark  parapet  of  rock,  in  Tore  Water- 
fall that  cost  us  only  a  few  moments  of  climb  into  the 
dusky  recesses  under  the  mountain. 


382  PARIS    IN'    '6  7. 

But  there  was  one  political  fact  caught  during  that  ride, 
which  must  be  recorded,  even  at  the  expense  of  scenery. 
Looking  over  at  Macgillicuddy  Reeks,  and  remembei'ing 
how  the  dark  Gap  of  Dunloe  and  its  silver  Serpent  Lake 
lay  just  beyond,  something  in  the  names  of  those  magnifi- 
cently-rebellious districts  recalled  the  late  troubles,  and  the 
spirit  moved  me  to  ask  an  impertinent  question.  "  Dennis," 
(to  the  driver)  "  have  there  been  any  Fenians  about  here, 
this  season  ?"  A  queer  cock  of  his  droll  eye  around  at  the 
two  English  people  on  the  opposite  seat  (backs  to  us),  a 
draw  of  the  mouth  that  neai'ly  sent  me  into  convulsions  of 
laughter  that  would  have  spoiled  all — and  Dennis  settled 
the  whole  political  complexion  of  Ken-y  at  a  word.  "  Is  it 
Fenians,  yer  honor  manes  ?  Thini  fellows  that  goes  agin 
the  Quane  ?  Och,  divil  a  wan  of  thim  hereabouts !'' — "  Not 
one,  Dennis?" — "Well,"  (taking  off  his  caubeen,  and 
scratching  his  head  with  one  finger,  while  both  the  eyes 
and  the  mouth  were  droller  tlian  ever),  "  maybe  there  loas 
■wan!  I  did  be  hearin'  of  wan,  I  think,  over  at  the  Gap 
o'  Dunloe;  but  they  did  for  him!"  Who  could  doubt 
the  rampant  loyalty  of  all  Southwestern  Ireland,  after 
such  an  assurance  as  that  ? 

What  views  we  had,  up  the  Lower  Lake  and  over  the 
mountains  forming  its  magnificent  background,  that  even- 
ing, when  the  sun  was  setting  in  golden  mist  and  wreathing 
the  peaks  in  royal  purple,  from  the  splendidly-situated 
Lake  House,  with  proprietor  James  Coffee  (who  seems  to 
know  personally  the  Bradys,  the  ConoUys,  and  half  the 
F.  F.  I's.  in  New  York,  and  who  gave  me  the  just-received 
intelligence  of  the  death  of  poor  Meagher)  picking  out  all 
the  distant  beauties  with  a  loving  eye  and  a  tongue  of 
long  practice  !  How  certainly  the  Lakes  of  Killarney  took 
their  position  in  mind,  then,  as  among  the  most  beautiful 
in  all  the  earth — our  own  Lake  George  and  Winnipisau- 
kie,  Scottish  Katrine  and  Lomond,  English  Windermere, 


TEE    SUN-BURST.  383 

and  even  Swiss  Leman  and  Brienz,  neither  left  out  of  the 
calculation  nor  undervalued.  And  how  regretfully  I  left 
them  the  next  morning,  with  a  daylight  glimpse  of  pleasant 
and  rather  pretentious-looking  Killarney  (village),  where 
some  of  the  cottages  were  very  picturesque,  and  some  of 
the  black  eyes  connected  with  the  blue  cloaks  and  bare 
heads  were  wickedly  Spanish  and  handsome ;  rolled  back 
to  Mallow  and  changed  train  for  Cork ;  sorrowed,  over  the 
unarrested,  decadence  of  the  Green  Island,  so  evident  in 
the  crowds  of  emigrants  "  for  Ameriky,"  flocking  to  every 
wayside  railway-station,  bidding  tearful  farewells,  and 
bsnding  for  Queenstown  and  the  steamers ;  saw  Blarney 
Castle,  a  fine  old  group  of  crumbling  towers  fairly  em- 
bowered in  trees  (the  "  Groves  of  Blarney  "),  without  the 
least  wish  to  "  kiss  the  Blarney-stone  ;"  duplicated  my 
Dublin  experience  in  another  jaunting-car  ride  through 
and  around  handsome,  well-built  Cork,  and  beside  the 
"pleasant  waters  of  the  river  Lee,"  whereon  old  Shandon 
Church  yet  points  up  its  queer,  five-storied  steeple,  and 
tolls  out  the  hours  sweetly  from  its  wonderful  chime  of 
bells  ;  spent  an  hour  in  the  dirty  and  dingy  assize-rooms 
at  the  Court-House,  to  see  that  discreditable  farce  known 
as  the  "  Fenian  trials,"  in  which  I  was  not  impressed  with 
the  intellectual  caliber  of  either  accused,  lawyers  or  judges  ; 
and  then  enjoyed  a  favorable  view  of  the  river-side  public 
grounds,  and  the  really  extensive  marine  trade  of  Cork,  as 
I  swept  down  the  Lee  to  Queenstown  and  the  westward- 
bound  "  City  of  London,"  on  a  little  paddle- wheeler  that 
cai-ried  a  second-rate  band  and  excursionists,  and  somehow 
seemed  to  me  to  be  going  down  to  Fort  Hamilton  and 
Coney  Island. 

My  last  glimpse  of  Ireland  had  something  to  do  with 

the   "  sun-burst,"  as  my  first  had  done.     I  was  sitting  on 

the  edge  of  the  stone-bordered  esplanade  at  Queenstown, 

in  front  of  the  Queen's  Hotel,  waiting  the  steamer-hour — 

17 


384  PARIS    IN   '67. 

and  two  or  three  of  the  middle-sort  of  Paddies  very  near 
me.  A  singular  aerial  phenomenon  attracted  my  atten- 
tion, and  I  called  that  of  my  nearest  neighbor  to  it. 
"  See,  Paddy — the  scuds  up  yonder  are  all  flying  from  the 
northwest,  while  down  here  the  wind  must  be  southeast, 
for  the  flag  on  the  hotel,  there,  is  blowing  from  that 
direction." — "  So  it  is,  be  jabers !  and  that's  quare,  ony- 
way  !"  answered  Paddy,  after  observing.  "  What  do  you 
think  can  be  the  row  ? — any  thing  wrong  in  the  wind,  or 
is  all  the  fault  in  the  flag  ?"  I  asked.  Paddy  took  two 
squints  around,  to  see  that  there  was  no  awkward  cus- 
tomer within  hearing,  satisfied  himself  by  a  second  glance 
that  I  was  really  an  American  and  no  English  detective  in 
disguise,  and  then,  with  a  contortion  of  eye  and  face  which 
strongly  reminded  me  of  Dennis  of  the  day  before,  hazarded 
a  guess  which  may  have  had  some  reason  in  it :  "  Faix,  I 
donH  knoio  but  Ws  dhe  tcrong  flag  they  have  up  dhere 
— one  that  doesn't  know  hoto  to  blow  in  an  Irish  wind — 
maybe  anodher'd  do  betther  P 

May  be  it  would,  Paddy  ;  may  be  not — I  have  no  idea, 
even  if  I  did  set  that  trap  for  a  native  opinion.  But  let  us 
all  hope  'that  if  there  ever  does  come  a  change  of  flags,  it 
will  be  the  result  of  no  vengeful  feeling,  but  a  conscientious 
demand  made  by  one  Avhole  nation  and  acceded  to  by 
another — that  it  may  bring  a  better  and  a  more  substantial 
"sun-burst  over  Ireland." 


XXX. 

SHIVEPwINGS   OX   SHIPBOARD. 

A  MAN  may  be  quite  as  likely,  at  sea,  I  take  it,  to  shiver 
with  cold,  or  even  with  laughter,  as  with  trepidation ;  so 
let  it  not  be  ine\'itably  supposed,  from  the  accidental  allite- 
ration of  the  title  of  this  paper,  that  I  am  about  to  describe 
a  voyage  or  series  of  voyages  in  which  the  participants  all 
commenced  by  being  reasonably  frightened,  and  finally  went 
stark  mad  with  terror.  I  am  merely  about  to  conclude 
this  inexcusably-rambling  collection  of  papers,  with  a  few 
brief  (very  brief)  notes  of  the  two  passages  across  the 
Atlantic,  which  bounded  the  two  ends  of  the  summer's 
adventures.  Those  who  are  already  tired,  or  who  have 
that  innate  horror  of  the  sea  which  makes  any  reference  to 
it  an  insult,  are  respectfully  invited  to  "skip  this" — lay 
down  the  book  as  already  concluded :  those  who  believe, 
as  I  do,  that  half  a  trip  to  Europe,  however  intei-esting,  is 
involved  in  the  going  and  returning,  may  make  the  venture 
of  the  two  imaginary  voyages. 

The  Governor  went  over,  again,  on  an  Inman  steamer, 
the  "  City  of  Paris,"  and  returned  on  another  of  the  same 
line,  the  "  City  of  London."  Reasons  (for  which  no  one 
has  the  least  disposition  to  care)  varied  and  conclusive. 
First,  he  clung  to  his  before-expressed  love  for  the  Clyde- 
built  screw-steamship,  and  had  seen  no  reason  to  retract  an 
old  opinion  that  the  steamers  of  that  line  were  alike  safe, 
commodious,  and  quite  as  rapid  as  consistent  with  comfort. 


386  PARIS    IF    '67. 

Second,  he  knew  quite  enough  bad  French,  and  had  no 
occasion  to  adopt  one  of  the  French  steamers  in  order  to 
master  the  necessary  gibberish  to  ask  for  a  beef-steak  and 
some  additional  potatoes,  before  reaching  the  desired  Babel. 
Third,  he  had  not  yet  shaken  off  his  habit  of  clinging  to 
old  friends — believed  not  only  in  the  "bridge  that  had 
carried  him  safe  over,"  but  also  in  the  ship  that  had  per- 
formed the  same  service,  and  eke  in  the  very  Captain  that 
had  -commanded  the  ship  that  had  performed  her  part  so 
satisfactorily. 

The  Governor  had  temptations  to  do  otherwise — let  the 
truth  be  admitted.  The  commodious  ships  of  the  National 
Line  came  under  his  notice  very  often  ;  and  he  had  friends 
who  crossed  in  them  very  frequently,  impelled  either  by 
their  very  moderate  passage-rate  for  such  excellent  accom- 
modation (few  of  the  Governor's  friends  are  millionaires — so 
much  the  worse  for  /nmf),  or  by  the  fact  that  they  (the 
friends — not  the  ships)  had  fallen  into  one  pleasant 
"groove"  as  he  had  tumbled  into  another.     And  when 

one  day  D D ,  the  editor-out-of-harness,  happened 

to  meet  him  and  say :  "I  have  foimd  the  ship  to  go  over 
in,  old  boy! — the  'Denmark,'  of  the  National  Line.  Such 
room ! — such  substantial  comfort,  with  no  fuss  and  no 
wasted  gingerbread ! — such  a  luxury  to  have  one's  state- 
room opening  right  off  from  the  cabin,  and  no  stumbUng 
about  to  get  from  bunk  to  breakfast !" — then  for  the 
moment  the  gubernatorial  pulse  quivered,  and  he  almost 
hesitated  in  choice.  He  would  quite  have  hesitated,  prob- 
ably, had  he  had  later-acquired  demonstration  how  well 
that  same  "Denmark"  could  behave  in  the  most  trying 
weather  at  sea, — or  had  the  colossal  "  France,"  which  now 
so  nobly  heads  the  line,  then  opened  her  prairies  of  decks 
and  acres  of  cabin  to  view,  making  us  wonder  why  they 
call  the  Company  a  "Limited"  one,  when  there  seems  no 
limit  to  either  the  size,  commodiousness,  or  number  of  their 


SHIVERINGS    OX    SHIPBOARD.     38T 

ships, — or  had  Commodore  Kennedy  not  commanded  the 
"  City  of  Paris:'' 

There  are  reasons,  up  to  this  time  artfully  concealed, 
"why  the  Governor  is  peculiarly  fond  of  the  Commodore's 
being  in  command.  Print  this  in  small  type,  if  you  will — 
but  Kennedy  aforesaid  does  keep  such  a  table ! — and  the 
Governor,  much  as  his  fragile  aud  cadaverous  appearance 
may  belie  the  fact,  is  rather  a  good  knife-and-fork  than 
the  reverse.  Then  Kennedy  (as  had  been  discovered  dur- 
ing the  "  City  of  Boston  "  experience  of  1 865)  is  so  pleased 
to  have  the  Governor  at  hand,  ready  to  do  digestive 
battle  with  any  dish  that  may  be  eschewed  by  all  the  rest 
of  the  passengers — to  supply  the  ship  with  the  due  pro- 
portion of  merriment,  by  falling  into  all  the  accidents  and 
blunders  known  to  the  world  of  misfortune-^and  to  save 
consultation  of  the  barometer  by  always  carefully  pre- 
dicting the  exact  reverse  of  tlie  weather  that  is  really 
brewing  ! 

All  these  things  duly  considered,  the  Governor,  his 
friend  and  relative  the  Captain  (a  Xew  Jersey  gentleman- 
farmer  and  ex-coast-navigator,  American- continent-trav- 
eled, but  making  his  first  run  over-sea),  and  Anna  Maria 
(incai'nate  New  York  girl,  young  enough  for  comfort, 
merry,  saucy,  fond  of  travel,  and  fenime  sole)  took  the 
"  City  of  Paris,"  unless  it  may  be  considered  nearer  the 
point  of  fact  to  say  that  the  "City  of  Paris"  took  them. 
They  had  the  most  uneventful  of  passages,  which  there  is 
no  intention  whatever  of  describing — nine  and  a  half  days 
to  Liverpool,  without  a  single  spray  flung  over  the  bow  of 
the  race-horse  old  "  Paris,"  running  from  three  hundred  to 
three  hundred  and  thirty  miles  per  day,  "  hulling  down " 
the  French  and  German  steamers  at  will,  and  crossing 
Liverpool  bar  within  fifteen  minutes  of  the  time  played-for 
by  the  confederates  (the  Commodore  and  Engineer  Hamil- 
ton) from  the  bar  at  Sandy  Hook ! 


388  PARIS    IF   '67. 

Carrying  a  pleasant  company,  too,  in  B ,  of  the  Post- 

Oflice,  bluff,  jolly,  and  the  best  of  raw  sailors;  II ,  the 

shipping-merchant,  who  might  have  seen  one  of  his  own 

sail,  almost  any  day ;  Rev.  Dr.  P and  Prof  S ,  of 

Amherst,    C ,  of  Staten  Island,  and  two  or  three  other 

clergymen,  who  seasoned  the  doubtful  mass  with  a  little 

unobtrusive   piety;  W ,  the  Liverpool  merchant  and 

banker,  elsewhere  spoken  of;  R ,  the  landscape-painter, 

and  his  pleasant  wife  ;  Prof  F ,  of  the  New  York  Free 

College,  much   sought   after  by  the   French  smatterers ; 

L ,  of  the  Pennsylvania  coal-regions,  who  breakfasted 

in  English,  lunched  in  Dutch,  dined  in  French,  took  tea  in 

Welsh,  and  went  to  his  state-room  in  Choctaw ;  B ,  of 

one  of  the  leading  New  York  mercantile  houses,  too  clever 

for  the  fever  that  held  him  half  the  time  prostrate ;  G , 

a  funny  old  Franco- American,  claiming  to  be  an  Expo- 
sition  Commissioner  from   Louisiana,  and   instructing  all 

parties   on  all  subjects;   Mrs.  A (nach  Antwerpen), 

who  "  cornered  "  W "  better  than  she  knew  ;"  Mrs. 

F and  Miss  B ,  fresh  from  the  Golden  Coast  and 

pleasantly  comparing    every  thing   with   California;    Dr. 

B and  lady  ("  sands  of  life  "  not  "  run  "  but  running^ 

probably)  ;  P and  Miss  R ,  the  latter  destined  to 

astonish  even  Paris  by  her  appreciation  of  Mabille ;  etc., 
etc.,  with  a  wide  field  of  the  omitted  before  reaching 
nearly  two  hundred, 

"  But  where  are  the  '  shiverings  '  in  all  this  ?"  The 
question  is  a  reasonable  one ;  but  ah,  Monsieur  or  Madame 
the  inquirer,  you  were  not  with  us  on  that  passage !  Had 
you  been,  the  wonder  would  never  have  been  expressed. 
"  Shiverings  ?" — if  we  had  nothing  else,  except  the  Cap- 
tain's popularity  and  the  Governor's  appetite,  we  had 
them.  The  Clerk  of  the  Weather,  oi'dered  by  the  debon- 
naire  commander  to  give  us  smooth  seas,  revenged  him- 
self by  sending  an  atmosphere  of  icicles.     Winter  over- 


SHIYEEI^'^OS    0  2T    SHIPBOARD.      389 

coats  became  trifles,  thick  shawls  cobwebs ;  all  the  false 
teeth  in  the  company  were  chattered  away  within  twenty- 
four  hours  out ;  half  the  berth-blankets  disa2:)peared,  cut  up 
into  surreptitious  additional  under-clothing ;  the  lee  of  the 
hot  funnel  became  the  scene  of  more  tights  for  possession, 
than  had  ever  raged  over  the  Scottish  border ;  and  there 
were  innumerable  instances  of  unfortunates  being  obliged 
to  wait  until  the  mid-day  sun  thawed  them  out,  before 
being  able  to  respond  to  an  inquiry  as  to  their  digestion. 
Some  of  us  almost  wished,  occasionally,  that  we  could 
even  have  been  among  Commodore  Kennedy's  "  smoked 
herring" — whereof,  by  the  way,  the  Commodore  does  not 
tell  very  often,  so  that  it  devolves  upon  me  to  explain  the 
allusion. 

Troops  were  wanted  in  Canada,  very  suddenly,  in  186 — , 
when  our  rebellion  had  disturbed  all  the  line  of  the  St. 
Lawrence.  No  vessel  could  carry  over  enough  of  them  at 
once,  except  the  Great  Eastern  ;  and  Capt.  Kennedy  was 
selected  for  the  command,  under  the  not-unnatural  impres- 
sion that  the  barnacles  would  not  grow  perceptibly  larger 
on  the  bottom  of  the  "  big  ship  "  while  Jie  was  taking  her 
to  the  Gulf.  But  the  "  Great  Eastern  "  had  been  "  lying 
in  ordinary ;"  and  though  the  soldiers  were  all  ready, 
where  were  the  four  or  five  hundred  men  without  whom 
the  colossus  could  not  be  navigated  ?  First-class  seamen 
were  not  to  be  thought  of — any  thing  and  anybody  must 
be  taken ;  and  the  result  was  a  sweep  of  boarding-houses 
and  dock-yards,  something  on  the  old  press-gang  system, 
huddling  forcibly  on  board,  just  on  the  eve  of  sailing,  the 
requisite  number  of  able-bodied  men  and  seamen  by  pro- 
fession, but  about  the  most  ungovernable  and  "  hardest 
cases "  known  to  the  sea-going  service.  Immediate  dis- 
cipline seemed  out  of  the  question.  Open  mutiny  was  not 
to  be  feared,  with  the  bayonets  of  twenty-five  hundred 
soldiers  ready  to  support  authority;  but  how  were  they 


390  PARIS    IN   '6  7. 

to  be  made  of  any  working  use  ?  Very  soon  came  the  first 
contest  as  well  as  the  last,  and  a  practical  answer  to  the 
query.  Ship  away  down  channel ;  morning,  and  the  order 
passed  for  "scrubbing  decks."  Nearly  the  whole  body  of 
"hard  cases"  keeping  the  watch  below  and  refusing  to 
"  turn  out."  Enter  to  them  a  certain  number  of  the  sol- 
diers, who  with  bayonets  prodded  or  "  pitch-forked  "  them 
out  of  bunk,  after  which  they  did  consent  to  come  on 
deck,  not  yet  conquered,  and  fancying  that  the  Avorst  was 
over.  Was  it,  though  !  It  is  well  known  that  the  "  Great 
Eastern"  has  half-a-dozen  masts  and  five  funnels;  and  it  is 
also  well  known  that  the  Welsh  coals  burned  by  European 
steamers  when  coming  west,  make  rather  a  dense  and  not- 
too-cleanly  smoke — about  half  ashes  and  half  the  remainder 
greasy  soot.  Into  the  tops  the  Captain  huddled  his  qnasi- 
mutineers,  bayonet-assisted,  again ;  and  there  he  kept 
them,  the  whole  day  down-channel,  the  wind  dead  ahead 
and  the  black  smoke  rolling  through  those  tops  with  full 
volume  and  inevitable  direction.  By  night  they  were  the 
"  smoked  herring "  already  indicated — the  most  woful- 
looking  and  the  most  obedient  body  of  men  possible — so 
well  pleased  with  the  man  icho  could  manar/e  them,  that 
not  one  of  them  afterwards  deserted  for  the  temptations 
of  the  timber-sliips  at  Quebec,  though  they  bad  shore-leave 
and  all  the  opportunities  freely  oftered.  This  is  the  story 
of  the  "  smoked  herring,"  and  one  of  the  best  instances  of 
"  executive  ability  "  known  to  the  service — for  the  telling 
of  which  story,  thus  publicly  and  without  permission,  let 
the  Commodore  subject  me  to  the  same  penalty  on  my 
next  trip  with  him,  if-/ie  is  sure  of  the  strength  of  his  tops 
and  ratlines. 

Well,  the  cold  but  quiet  passage  came  almost  too  soon  to 
an  end-^the  Governor  (constitutional  grumbler)  not  having 
suffered  a  single  absolute  discomfort  except  in  the  extreme 
difficulty  of  keeping  his  patent-leathers  from  being  dragged 


SHIVEEINGS    OR    SHIPBOARD.      391 

away  and  blacked  by  Boots,  as  vulgar  calf;  and  most  of 
the  vital  business  of  the  voyage,  after  sailing  the  ship  (in 
which,  of  course,  all  the  passengers  took  part),  footing  up 
as  fiirling  and  chechers.  The  last  sign  of  expiring  vitality 
was  shown  at  the  last  dinner  before  making  the  Irish  coast, 
whereat,  as  usual,  the  regulation  piece  of  ornamented  jelly 
was  served  at  dessert,  the  British  Lion  and  American  Eagle 
in  amicable  oppugnation.  One  of  the  art-critics  suggested 
that  the  pictured  Lion  was  probably  by  Landseer,  iu  com- 
pliment to  the  would-be  land-seers  who  were  just  then  very 
plenty  on  board  ;  a  second,  inquired  of  as  to  his  reasons  for 
stopping  at  Cork  instead  of  going  on  to  Liverpool,  assured 
us  that  he  was  going  there  to  see  a  Cove  of  his  acquaint- 
ance ;  and  a  third,  no  doubt  under  some  unnamable  influ- 
ence, produced  a  very  dark-looking  bottle-stopper  and 
feelingly  remarked  that  "though  he  could  not  have  the 
pleasure,  just  yet,  of  showing  the  Port  of  Cork,  he  would 
do  the  next  best  thing  and  present  the  cork  of  portr  No 
executions  or  suicides  followed ;  but  perhaps  it  was  quite 
as  well  that  after  such  an  exhibition  of  morals,  the  dispersal 
should  not  be  far  removed. 

There  were  very  different  "shiverings"  from  those  of 
laughter  or  cold,  on  the  return-run  made  westward  by  the 
Governor,  on  the  "  City  of  London,"  beggared  of  all  his 

outward-bound  corapanious  except  B ,  and  not  a  little 

shaken  by  Mount  Rhigi.  Boreas  had  gone  into  confedera- 
tion with  Zephyrus,  and  the  two  seemed  to  have  an  idea 
that  if  the  Governor  could  be  prevented  returning  to 
America,  the  country  would  be  the  richer ;  whereupon 
they  sent  Tempest  and  Hurricane,  two  sturdy  males,  and 
Cyclone,  fiercer  than  either  because  a  female,  to  blow  in 
the  teeth  of  the  gallant  ship  and  work  what  damage  might 
be  possible.  To  say  that  they  succeeded  in  stopping  that 
four-huudred-feet  of  riveted  iron,  large  enough  to  stride  the 

broadest  wave  that  the  Atlantic  ever  saw,  and  about  as 
17* 


393  PARIS   IN   '67. 

secure  against  twist  or  wrench  as  a  solid  cast-iron  pot  of 
the  same  dimensions — this  would  be  simply  nonsense ;  for 
good-natured  but  reasonably-determined  Captain  Brooks 
and  his  clever  officers  (Thompson,  Duxbury,  and  the  rest — 
the  former  wearing  the  medal  of  the  Royal  Humane  Soci- 
ety for  life-saving  service  in  that  very  life-boat  No.  2,  lying 
so  quietly  housed  yonder)  have  a  theory,  I  fancy,  that 
would  niilitate  against  such  a  check :  "  This  ship  belongs 
to  the  L.,  i!f .  Y.  and  P.  S.  S.  Co. ;  they  have  ordered  her 
taken  to  New  York ;  ergo^  to  New  York  she  goes,  through 
fair  weather  if  she  can,  through  foul  weather  if  she  must. 
No  other  port  possible,  until  this  run  is  over,  except  'Davy 
Jones's  locker.' "  They  do  not  even  heed  when  3Iistress 
Maguire,  lying  in  mortal  fright  on  her  state-room  floor  and 
refusing  to  undress  because  she  wishes  to  '  die  dacently,' 
sends  word  by  the  steward,  every  half  hour,  that  "if  they 
don't  turn  back  to  Queenstown,  before  they  drown  every- 
body, she'll  report  every  mother's  son  of  'em !" 

If  Tempest  and  his  companions  did  not  succeed  in  stop- 
ping the  good  "  City  of  London,"  they  did  manage  to  im- 
pede her  materially.  They  built  up  great  mountains  of 
black  and  white  water,  up  and  down  which  she  was  con- 
tinually sliding  and  pitching.     They  abolished  quoits  and 

shovel-board ;  and  rolled  pleasant  Mrs.  M.  A.  D -,  the 

authoress,  into  a  berth  which  threatened  to  ingulf  her  for 
the  whole  voyage.  They  made  the  Rev.  Dr.  D ,  him- 
self, remember  the  time  when  the  old  Antelope  came  so 
near  to  supplying  premature  burial  to  all  her  passengers, 
in  the  California  '49  days.     They  hoarsed  the  musical  pipes 

of  P and  J and  V and  their  companions  ;  and 

even  interfered  with  B 's  beggai'ing  one  who  shall  be 

nameless,  at  euchre  and  cribbage.  They  drove  the  for- 
ward-passengers into  unpleasant  huddles  within,  or  made 
"  lively  times "  for  them  when  they  emerged  to  daylight. 
And  as  for  their  special  mark  and  victim,  the  Governor — 


SEIYERINGS    (9^V    SHIPBOARD.       393 

they  prevented  his  writing  either  a  play  or  novel,  cr  falling 
in  love  beyond  very  moderate  distraction,  all  the  way  over; 
they  induced  him  to  bore  the  accommodating  Captain  out 
of  his  deck-cabin,  in  order  to  sleep  beside  the  barometer, 
that  just  then  seemed  the  most  useful  of  human  inventions ; 
and  they  threw  him,  what  with  rain,  spray,  desperates  lov- 
enliness,  and  funnel-cinders,  into  such  a  chronic  state  of 
blacked  face  that  not  even  the  Reconstruction  Acts  would 
have  allowed  him  a  vote. 

But  all  this  passed — passed  so  quickly  as  almost  to  leave 
a  regret — for  the  "  London  "  is  the  most  comfortable  and 
splendidly  handled  of  ships,  even  if  she  does  not  quite  dis- 
pute the  palm  of  spped  with  the  Commodore's.  Then 
came  the  "  golden  days,"  the  quiet,  sunny  days,  with  calm 
sea,  when  existence  was  happiness  sufficient ;  when  deck- 
amusements  came  again  into  vogue  by  day,  and  parlor- 
readings,  lectures,  and  music  filled  up  the  enjoyable  even- 
ings ;  when  Caj^tain  B.  again  put  on  his  new  blue  coat 

with  the  bright  buttons,  and  was  irresistible ;  when  B 

finished  his  projected  little  "  ruin  "  at  cribbage,  and  Mis- 
tress Maguire  stopped  telling  her  beads ;  when  flirtation 

recommenced,  and  the  other  B and  his  child-wife  again 

nestled  cozy  on  rags  in  the  sunshine ;  and  when  the  Gov- 
ernor bored  everybody  by  explaining  precisely  the  distance 
by  which  they  had  all  escaped  going  to  the  bottom,  as  also 
why  and  wherefore  he  had  not  been  "shivering"  during 
the  worst  of  it ;  not  he ! 

But  ah!  those  cozy  and  lovely  days  on  the  Banks,  when 
the  iodine  aroma  of  the  American  coast  seemed  to  be 
coming  oif  to  meet  us  and  tell  of  approaching  home — they 
had  death  within  their  soft  beauty,  as  is  sometimes  said 
of  the  flowers  ;  and  for  the  moment  we  "  shivered"  in  that 
awful  presence  brought  so  near !  There  had  been  a  "  little 
stranger"  come  on  board  in  the  forward  saloons,  a  day  or 
two  after  leaving  Queenstown — beyond  the  power  of  the 


394  PARIS    IN    '6  7. 

Purser  either  to  prevent  or  to  charge  passage  (in  fact,  Dr. 
Rice  had  most  to  do  with  it)  ;  and  perhaps  the  ship's 
manifest  needed  correction  as  to  number.  At  all  events, 
poor  old  Mr.  L ,  of  Carolina,  who  had  left  Queens- 
town  by  far  too  ill  for  safe  passage,  but  lived  ener- 
getically through  all  the  rough  weather — then,  when  the 
ship  "sraelled  bottom"  (made  soundings),  yielded  up  his 
life,  and  went  to  a  wider  country  than  that  from  which 
he  was  half-exiled.  He  died  at  early  morjiing,  and  the 
after  wheel-house  was  a  jslace  to  be  trodden  around  with 
quiet  feet  for  many  hours  afterward,  while  he,  who  seemed 
to  have  been  one  of  our  family  (ah,  those  shipboard  ties 
are  closer  than  landsmen  know !)  lay  there  robed  and 
coffined  for  burial.  Then  came  the  soft,  quiet  afternoon, 
with  the  cloudless  sun  going  down  over  a  wide  expanse  of 
waveless,  scarcely-rippled  silver ;  and  in  the  golden  sunset 
we  gathered  with  uncovered  heads  at  the  port-gangway, 
the  coffin  draped  with  the  meteor-flag,  and  resting  on  its 
plank,  balanced  across  the  bulwark,  the  officers  in  ser- 
vice-uniform, the  Captain  reverently  holding  and  reading 
from  the  Book  of  Prayer,  and  the  awed  passengers  press- 
ing close  and  silently  down  the  long  decks.  A  solemn, 
touching,  instructive  spectacle,  that  "  burial  at  sea,"  for 
the  sight  of  which  I  had  so  long  half-wished  and  half- 
feared;  nowhere  else  is  sepulture  one-hundredth  part  so 
impressive. 

"  Inasmuch  as  it  hath  pleased  Almighty  God  to  take  to 
himself  the  soul  of  our  dear  brother  *  *  *  we  commit  his 
body  to  the  deep,  in  full  assurance  of  the  resurrection!"  A 
softer  tone  in  the  Captain's  sympathetic  voice;  a  lower  bow- 
ing of  the  uncovered  heads ;  a  tilting  of  the  plank,  and  grasp- 
ing of  the  flag,  by  the  two  quartermasters  standing  beside  ; 
a  shde  ;  a  plunge  of  the  weighted  coffin ;  and  the  "  City  of 
London  "  swept  on,  one  less  on  board,  the  silver  sea  flaming 
with  the  molten  gold  of  the  sunset  far  behind  her,  and  the 


SHIVERIXGS    ON    SHIPBOARD.       305 

long  wreath  of  her  dark  smoke  seeming  to  settle  down 
over  the  wake  at  miles  beyond,  as  if  to  shroud  the  waves 
holding  the  wasted  form  of  the  Governor's  poor  old  next- 
door  neighbor,  his  long  voyage  ended  even  before  the 
briefer ! 

Wherewith,  and  with  the  recollection  that  the  book  thus 
lugubriously  launched  may  not  keep  afloat  much  longer 
than  the  Carolinian's  weighted  coflin,  this  rambling  record 
finds  a  conclusion.  And  yet  I  do  not  intend  to  say  "  good- 
bye," as  a  rambler :  only  "  au  revoir  /"  For  the  sights  of 
Old  Europe,  and  the  great  sea  making  the  pathway  thither, 
worth  seeing,  remembering  and  prating  about,  are  far  as 
ever  from  having  been  exhausted,  even  in  the  Great  Expo- 
sition, its  side-shows  and  excursions. 


THU    'EiSn. 


PARIS  IN  '67.— ANNOUNCEMENTS. 
AMERICAN    VISITORS 

TO 

Are  respectfully  recommended,  before  purchasing  elsewhere,   . 
TO  VISIT  THE  WELL-KNOWN  ESTABLISHMENT, 

AU  BON  MARCHE, 

135  and  137,  RUE  DU  BAG, 

PARTS, 

WHEEE  THET  WILL  FIND 

The  Most  Magnificent  Assortment  in  the  World 

OF 

SILKS,    SATINS, 
DRESS    GOODS, 

SUITABLE  FOR  LADIES. 

Visitors  will  be  waited  on  by  polite  and  attentive  Clerks, 
who  speak  English  fluently. 

Goods  sold  at  the  Lowest  Price,  and  for  Cash  only. 

N.B. — Should  Customers  purchase  Goods,  and  be  dissatisfied 
with  them  afterwards,  the  same  will  be  exchanged  or  re-taken, 
if  desired. 


PARIS  IN  '67.— ANNOUNCEMENTS. 


,-'2S^^^.. 


THE      GREAT      PRIZE. 

Exposition  Universelle,  Paris,  1867. 

The    Howe    Machine    Co. 

ELIAS  HOWE,  Jr., 

699     Broadway,     New    York, 

Awarded  over  Eighity-two  Competitors, 

THE   HIGHEST    PREMIUM, 

The    only    Cross    of   the    Legion    of    Honor, 
AND  GOLD  MEDAL, 

Given  to  AMERICAN  SEWING  MACHINES,  per  Imperial  Decree,  pnbTished  in 
the  "  Moniteur  TJniversel  "  (Official  Journal  of  the  French  Empire),  Tuesday,  2a 
July^  la67,  iu  these  words : 

EixiB  Howe  Js  1  Eabricante  de  Machines  a  coudre  exposant. 
XJJ.U  HOWE,  t»B.  I  Manufacturer  of  Sewing  Machines,  Exhibitor. 

They  are  celebrated  for  doing  the  best  worlc,  using  a  much  smaller  needle  for 
the  same  thread  than  any  other  machine. 

The  New  Improved  Family  Machine  is  without  a  rival,  and  cannot  be  eniv 
passed, — a  Hemmer,  Feller,  Braider,  Quilter,  and  Guide  go  with  each  Family 
Machine  free  of  charge. 

Every   Machine  is  as  near  perfection  as  the  best  Machinery  in  the  world  can  make  it. 

They  are  adapted  to  all  kinds  of  Family  Sewing,  and  Manufacturing  of  every 
description,  making  a  beautiful  and  perfect  Stitch,  aUke  on  both  sides  of  the 
articles  aewed,  and  will  neither  rip  nor  ravel. 

PRINCIPAL    OFFICES. 


New  York,  699  Broadway. 
London,  64  Regent  st. 
Paris,  48  Boulevard  de  SebastopoL 
Boston,  Mass.,  59  Bromfield  st. 
Phila.,  Pa.,  9-25  Chestnut  st. 
Cincinnati,  O.,  ('8  Fourth  st. 
Chicago,  111.,  98  Washington  st. 
Baltimore,  Md.,  17  Sharp  st. 


Pittsburgh,  Pa.,  4  St.  Clair  st. 
Detroit,  Mich.,  50  Woodward  avo. 
Milwaukee,  Wis.,  410  Main  st. 
Cleveland,  O.,  227  Superior  st. 
BaflEalo,  N.  Y.,  31iiMain  st. 
Syracuse,  68  South  Sahna  st. 
Albany,  N.  Y.,  45  South  Pearl  st 
San  Fran.,  Cal.,  137  Kearney  st. 


SEND  FOR   CIRCULAR. 

THE    HOWE    MACHINE    COMPANY, 

Manufacturers  and  Sole  Proprietors  of  the 

HOWE     SEWING     MACHINE, 

699  Broadway,  N.  Y. 


PARIS  IN  '61.— ANNOUNCEMENTS. 

STEINWAY    &   SONS 

TRIUMPHANT 

AT  THE 

Universal    Exposition,    Paris,    1867. 


STEINWAY   &   SONS 

HAVE  BEEN  AWAEDED 

The    First    Grand    Gold    Medal 

For  American  Pianos  in  all  Three  Styles  Exhibited,  viz..  Grand,  Square,  and 
Upright,  this  Medal  being  DISTINCTLY  CLASSIFIED  FIRST  IN  OKDER  OP 
MERIT,  and  placed  at  the  head  of  the  List  of  all  ExUibitore,  in  proof  of  which 
the  following 

OFFICIAL  CERTIFICATE 

Of  the  President  and  Members  of  the  International  Jury  on  Musical  Instru- 
ments (Class  X)  is  subjoined  : 

Pabis,  July  20,  1867. 
"  I  cortlfy  that  the  Fibst  Gold  Medai.  for  American  Pianos  has  been  un- 
animously awarded  to  Messbs.    Steinwax  by  the  Jury  of  the  International 
Exhibition.    First  on  the  List  in  Class  X. 

••  MELINET,  President  of  International  Jury. 
GE0IUJK8  ELastker,  "I 
Ambboise  Thomas,        Members  of  the 
Ed.  Hai^sltck,  y 

F.  E.  GEVAiiiT,  International  Jury." 

J.  Schxedmaxeb,  J 
Thia  unanimous  decision  of  the  International  Class  Jury,  endorsed  by  th« 
Supreme  Group  Jury,  and  aihrmeil  by  (he  Imperial  Commission,  being  tli'  firtal 
verdict  of  the  only  tribunal  dctei'mining  tho  lauk  of  the  awards  at  the  Exposition, 
places  The  Uteinivay  Fianos  at  the  head  of  all  others,  in  comretition  with  over 
Four  Hundred  Pianos  entered  by  the  most  celebrated  European  and  American 
manufacturers. 

STEINWAY    ^    SONS 

WEEE  ALSO  AWARDED  A 

FIRST    PRIZE    MEDAL 

At  the  Great  INTERNATIONAL  EXHIBITION,  London,  1862,  for  Powerful, 
Clear,  Brilliant,  and  Sympathetic  Tone,  with  Excellence  of  Workmanship  aa 
shown  in  Grand  and  Square  Pianos,  in  Competition  with  209  Pianos  from  aiipartt 
0/  Ike  World. 

STEINWAY  &  SONS,  in  addition  to  the  above,  have  taken  TirtETT-nvE 
FiTTBT  Pbemiums,  Gold  and  Silver  Medals  at  the  Principal  Fairs  held  in  thia 
country  from  tho  year  l>i55  to  isr)2  inclusiv,  siace  which  time  they  have  7iot 
entered  their  Fiani'-lones  at  ann  Lmai  Fair  in  f'le  Unued  .Siate.t, 

EVERY  PIANO  IS  WARKANTED  FOR  FIVE  YEARS. 

Warerooms,  First  Floor  Steinway  Hall,  109  &  1 1 1  E.  14th  St. 
Between  Itb  Ave.  and  Irving  Place,  NEW  YORK. 


PARIS  /iV  'Q1.— ANNOUNCEMENTS. 

SEVENTY 
GOLD  OR  SILVER  MEDALS, 

Or  other   highest  premiums,  have  been  awarded  within   a  few  years  at  the 
principal  Industrial  Fairs  of  the  country,  to 

MASON   &    HAMLIN, 

Manufacturers  of 

CABINET  ORGANS. 

THEIR    INSTRUMENTS    HAVE    THUS    BEEN 

REPEATEDLT  DECLARED   THE  BES% 

AT   THE    FOLLOWING,  AMONG    OTHER   FAIRS  : 

THE  PARIS  EXPOSITION,  1867. 

Massachusetts     Charitable    Mechanics^    Association^ 
Boston. 
Franklin  Institute.,  Philadelphia. 
American  Institute,  New  Tork. 
Maryland  Institute,  Baltimore. 
Mechanics^  Institute^  Cincinnati. 
United  States  Fair,  Chicago. 

Mechanics'  Fair,  San  Francisco. 

AND  AT    THE    STATE   FAIRS  OF 

New     Tork,    Iowa,     Pennsylvania,  Vermont,     Ohio, 
Kansas,  Indiana,  Rhode  Island,  Illinois, 

AND    EVERY    OTHER    STATE    WHERE    FAIRS    ARE    HELD. 

Address    Mason  h  Wamlin, 

596  Broadway,  New  York.      154  Tremont  St.,  Boston. 


PABIS  IN  '&1.— ANNOUNCEMENTS. 
THE 

GRANT   LOCOMOTIVE 
WORKS, 

PATERSON,        ...        NEW  JERSEY. 


BUILDERS     OF 


EXPRESS,   PJSSENGER  AND    FREIGHT: 

LOCOMOTIVES. 


RECEIVERS  OF  THE 

Great    Gold    Medal   (First  Prize), 


AT    THE 


PARIS    EXPOSITION    OF    1867, 

FOR    THE 

LOCOMOTIVE  "AMERICA." 


Office  in  New   York,    No.    53    Wall  St. 


PARIS  IN  '&1.— ANNOUNCEMENTS. 

The   Root   Steam   Engine   Co., 

•      MANUFACTURERS    OF 

ROOT^TRUNK  ENGINES 

STATIONARY,    PORTABLE,    AND    MARINE. 

SgUARE    Double -Piston   Hoisting 
ENGINES, 

Hoisting  Machinery  for  Stores,  Warehouses,  &c.,  Steam  Boilers,  Portable 
Saw  Mills,  &c. 

SALESROOM,    OFFICE,  AND    WORKS, 

500,  502,  504,  506  &  508  Second  Avenue,  cor.  28th 
St.;  and  303  East  28th  St. 

WM.  P.  ABENDROTH,  Prcs.  XT  "VT"  JOHN  B.  ROOT,  Cons'ng  Eng'r. 
T.  c.  M.  PATON,  Treas.  i-  1  •        •*•  •      john  f.  mills.  Secretary. 

FRANK    S.     CARPENTER,     Sup.  FREDERICK  W.   BROOKS,    GcH.  Agent. 

DESCRIPTIVE  PAMPHLET  ON  APPLICATION. 

PRIZE    MEDAL    AT    PARIS    EXHIBITION. 

ROOT'S    SECTIONAL 

DROUGHT-IRON 

SAFETY  BOILER 

COMBINES    THE    ADVANTAGES    OF 

POSITIVE    SAFETY 

From  destructive  explosion,  the  highest  economy  of  fuel,  durability,  great 
compactness  and  lightness,  perfect  accessibility  for  examination,  cleaning,  or 
repairs.  Being  composed  of  uniform  parts,  it  can  be  increased  or  decreased" 
in  size  readily  ;  all  sizes  have  the  same  strength,  and  injured  parts  can  be 
removed  and  replaced  without  disturbing  the  rest  of  the  boiler.  Being  sec- 
tional, the  largest  boilers  can  be  put  into  most  inaccessible  locations  ;  and 
no  piece  need  weigh  over  loo  pounds,  hence  especially  adapted  to  mining 
and  distant  points.  It  gives  superheated  steam  without  separate  apparatus, 
and  gets  up  steam  very  quickly.  Cost  of  setting  much  below  ordinary 
boilers.  Prices  reasonable.  Descriptive  circulars,  drawings,  estimates,  and 
references,  on  application.     Boilers  of  all  sizes  delivered  promptly. 

JOHN   B.    ROOT, 

Second  Avenue,  cor.  28th  St.,  New  York, 


PARIS  IN  'm.—ANNOU NG I MENTS. 

C.  G.  GUNTHER  &  SONS, 

Nos.  502  and  504.  Broadway, 
NEW  YORK  CITY. 

Fur  Dealers  and  Furriers, 

Importers,  Manufacturers  and  Shippers  of 

RAW    FURS    AND    SKINS, 
Ladies'  Furs, 

Gents'  Furs, 

Children's  Furs, 
Fur  Robes  and  Skins. 

Established  by  Christian  G.  Gunther,  at  46  Maiden  Lane, 
1820.  Removed  from  the  Old  Stand,  April,  1866,  after  46 
years'  permanent  location. 


SILVER    MEDAL    AWARD, 


FOB 


Exhibition  of  Fine  Furs  and  Skins, 

Paris  Exposition,  1867. 


PARIS  IN  'm.— ANNOUNCEMENTS. 

TIFFANY  &  CO., 

Nos.   550  and  552    Broadway, 
NEW  YORK  CITY. 

(House  in  Paris,  Tiffantt,  Reed  Sc  Co.,  Rue  Richelieu,  79.) 
DEALERS   IN 

DIAMONDS, 

AND    OTHER    PRECIOUS    STONES, 
FINE  JEWELRY, 

BRONZES, 

FINE  GAS-FIXTURES, 

SILVER  WARE, 

AND 

PARISIAN  FANCY  ARTICLES. 


Highest  Prize  Medal  for  Silver  Ware 


AT  THE 


PARIS    EXPOSITION. 


PARIS  IN  'G7.—ANNOUNCE3IENTS. 

C.  A.   STEVENS  &  CO., 

Gold    and    Silversmiths, 

No.  40  East  14th  Street,  Union  Square,  N.  Y., 

Importers  of 

DIAMONDS, 

WATCHES, 

FINE  JEWELRY, 
CLOCKS,  REAL  BRONZES, 

PORCELAIN  WARE 

Of  Every  Variety, 
BISgUE, 

PARIAN, 

SEVRES, 

TABLES, 

TAZZAS, 
CABINETS, 

STANDS, 

VASES, 

GROUPS, 

STATUETTES, 

And  a  choice  variety  of  recherche  articles  of  bijouterie,  taste, 
and  articles  of  virtu. 

PARTICULAR  ATTENTION  GIVEN 
To  the  manufacture  of  Silver  Ware, 

FOR  PRESENTATIONS  AND  WEDDING 
PRESENTS, 

For  which  Designs  will  be  furnished ;  as  also  to 
THE  SETTING  OF  DIAMONDS 

AND  OTHER  PRECIOUS  STONES, 
Under  our  personal  direction,  and  in  our  own  Establishment* 

C.   A.   Stevens  &Co., 

40  East  14th  St.,  Union  Square. 


PARIS  IN  'Q1.—ANN0UNCEMJSNTS. 


THE 

Florence   Sewing-M achine. 

In  addition  to  the  award  of  the 

SILVER  MEDAL  AT  THE  PARIS  EXPOSITION, 

has  also  carried  oflf"  the  highest  honors  at  the  principal  Fairs  and  Industrial  Exhibition* 
the  present  season — having  received  the  highest  prize  at  each  of  the  following  exhibi- 
tions: 

NEW  ENGLAND  AGRICULTURAL  FAIR,  at  Providence. 

NEW  YORK  STATE  FAIR,  at  Buffalo, 
MECHANICS'  ASSOCIATION  FAIR,  at  LowcU. 
MARYLAND  INSTITUTE  FAIR,  at  Baltimore. 
AMERICAN   INSTITUTE  FAIR,  at  New  York. 

It  would  seem  that  the  unprecedented  success  of  the  FLORENCE  against  the  most 
strenuous  competition,  in  thus  winning  for  itself  the  first  honors  at  aii  the  above  named 
exhibitions,  would  be  sufficient  to  convince  every  unprejudiced  mind  of  the  great  superi- 
ority of  the  Florence  over  all  others  as  a  Family  Sewing-Machine. 

FLORENCE  S.   M.   CO.,  505   Broadway. 


E.    W.    BURR, 


Established, 1832. 


791  BROADWAY,  NEW  YORK, 


IMPORTER    OF 


Diamonds,   Rubies,  Emeralds,  Opals,  Pearls, 
Stone  Cameos, 

AND    OTHER    RARE    GEMS. 

Also,  fine  Watches  of  all  the  celebrated  makers ;  and  Manufac- 
turer of  every  description  of  fine  Jewelry  and  Enameled  Work, 
from  the  latest  European  styles,  at  manufacturers'  prices. 

A  superfine  quality  of  sterling  Silver  Ware  made  to  order 
from  original  designs. 


PARIS  IN  %1. —ANNOUNCEMENTS. 

New  York  to  Liverpool, 
INMAN  LINE. 


THE  LIVERPOOL,  NEW  YORK  and  PHILADELPHIA 
STEAMSHIP  COMPANY 

Dispatch  their 

Splendid  Full-Powered  Clyde-Built  Steamships, 

from  New  York  for  Liverpool  and 

All  Parts  of  Europe, 

Every    Saturday     and     Wednesday; 

Carrying  the  U.  S.   Mails. 

MAIL  STEAMERS  SAILING  SATURDAYS. 

CITY  OF  PAKIS Capt.  Kennedy. 

"        ANTWEBP "     MirehouM. 

"        LONDON "     Brooks. 

"        BOSTON "     Leitch. 

"        BALTIMOEE "     McGuigan. 

WEDNESDAY  STEAMERS. 

Cmr  OF  WASHINGTON Capt.  RoskelL 

"        MANCHESTER ' Capt.  Manning. 

'•        NEW  YORK r'apt.  Roskeli. 

"        DUBLIN Capt.  Eynon. 

EDINBURGH Capt  Brldgeman. 

&c.,         &c. 

RATES    OF    PASSAGE    ALWAYS    THE    MOST   REASONABLE 
OFFERED  IN  FIRST-CLASS  STEAMERS. 

NEW   YORK    TO    ANTWERP 

Every  four  Weelcs. 

CITY  OF  CORK Captain  Jones. 

ETNA "        TibbetU. 

CITY  OF  LIMERICK "       Looliead. 

JOHN  G.  DALE,  Agent, 

No.   15  BROADWAY,  New  York. 
PHILADELPHIA  OFFICE,  411   Chestnut  street. 


PARIS  IN  '67.—ANNOUNCE3IENTS. 
THE 

National  Steamship  Company 

(Limited) 

Dispatch  the  following  Splendid  and  Commodious  Ships  of 
their  Line 

FROM  NEW  YORK  TO  LIVERPOOL. 

CALLING     AT     CORK     HARBOR, 

Every   Saturday, 
From  the  Company's  Wharf,  Pier  47,  North  River. 

FRANCE,  -         -         -         Capt.    Grace. 

ENGLAND,  -  .  -    Capt.   Cutting, 

THE  QUEEN,  -        -         -         Capt.   Grogan. 

DENMARK,  -         -  -  -    Capt.   Thomson. 
HELVETIA,       -        -         -         Capt.   Thompson. 

ERIN, Capt.   Hall. 

PENNSYLVANIA,     -         -         Capt.   Lewis. 

VIRGINIA,  -  -  -    Capt.    Prowse. 

LOUISIANA,    -        -         -         Capt.  Webster. 

Rates  of  Passage,  Payable  in  U.  S.  Currency. 

To  Liverpool  or  Queenstown f  100 

London no 

Hamburg 125 

Bremen 135 

Antwerp 125 

Havre 125 

Paris 125 

Tickets  to  Liverpool  and  Return 180 

Prepaid  Cabin  Tickets  from  Liverpool  or  Queenstown, ...     go 

For  further  information  apply  to 

F.  W,  J.  HURST,  Manager, 

C7  Broadway. 
18  ^'  ^ 


PARIS  IN  '&1. —ANNOUNCEMENTS. 

BALL,  BLACK  &  CO., 

565  &  567  Broadway,  New  York. 


HOUSE    IN    PARIS, 

No.  8  Rue  St.  George. 


Dealers  in 


DIAMONDS 


AND    OTHER 


PRECIOUS   STONES, 

BRONZE    CLOCKS, 
pAs    Fixtures,    jStatuary. 


MANUFACTURERS     OF 


SILVER  WARE, 

PLATED  WARE, 

AND  FINE  CUTLERY. 


LARGE  ASSORTME^^^  OF 


F  AN  C  Y    GOODS. 


PARIS  IN  'Q1— ANNOUNCEMENTS. 

LORD  &  TAYLOR, 

Nos.  461,  463,  465  &  467  Broadway,  ) 

Nos.  255,  257,  259  &  261  Grand  St.,  [•         NEU^   TORK. 

Nos.  47  &  49  Catherine  Street,  ) 

Fashionable    Dry  Goods, 

Including  Rich  Paris  Silks,  Dress  Goods,  Laces, 
Embroideries,  Linens,  Hosiery,  Shawls,  Cloaks,  Man- 
tillas, &c.,  &c.     Also, 

CARPETINGS, 
CURTAIN    MATERIALS, 

Lace  Curtains,  Window  Shades,  Cornices,  Fixtures, 
Piano  and  Table  Covers,  and  House  Furnishing  Goods 
of  every  description.     Also  in  the 

LADIES'  &  CHILDREN'S 

Furnishing  Department, 

Breakfast  Robes,  Robes  de  Chambre,  Skirts,  Waists, 
Corsets,  Corset-Covers,  Under  Garments,  Children's 
Dresses,  Cloaks,  Sacques,  Bridal  Trousseaux. 

At  Retail  &■  Wholesale, 

BELOW   REGULAR    PRICES. 


PARIS  IN    'Q1.— ANNOUNCEMENTS. 

FAIRBANKS'    SCALES 

TAKE    THE 

FIRST     PREMIUMS 

(JWO      ^EDALS) 
AT    THE 

Great    Paris    Exposition. 


These  Scales  are  manufactured  only  by  the  Original  Inventors ;  and 
all  others  represented  as  Fairbanks'  are  mere  imitations,  of  which  pur- 
chasers should  beware. 

J8^"  They  are  extremely  simple  in  construction,  are  made  of  the  rery 
best  materials,  by  experienced  and  intelligent  workmen,  and  under  the 
strictest  supervision  of  the  inventors. 

J8^^  They  have  been  in  constant  use  in  all  branches  of  business  for 
thirty  years,  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  and,  having  been  most  thoroughly 
tried,  are  the  acknowledged  standard. 

B@"They  have  taken  more  first  premiums  than  all  other  Scales,  and, 
what  is  of  more  practical  value,  have  received  the  award  of  superior  excellence 
by  the  vast  numbers  who  have  used  them  for  many  years. 

JJ^^  They  are  fully  warranted  not  only  strong  and  accurate,  but  durable  ; 
and  the  manufacturers,  who  are  permanently  established  and  fully  responsi- 
ble, will  always  be  prompt  to  make  this  warranty  good. 

Jl^^  They  are,  owing  to  the  large  experience  and  superior  facilities  of  the 
manufacturers,  offered  at  lower  prices  than  other  Scales  of  equal  size  and 
strength. 

Illustrated  and  descriptive  Circulars  furnished  upon  application  to 

FAIRBANKS  &  CO., 

252     BROADWAY,    NEW    YORK, 

OR    TO 

FAIRBANKS,  BROWN  &  CO., 

118  Milk  Street,  Boston,  Mass. 

FAIRBANKS,  GREENLEAF  &  CO., 

226  Lake  Street,  Chicago. 
FAIRBANKS,  MORSE  &  CO., 

125  Walnut  Street,  Cincinnati. 
FAIRBANKS  &  EWING, 

Masonic  Hall,  Philadelphia. 


PARIS  IN  '&!.— ANNOUNCEMENTS. 

517  m:iil.eb 

OF  THE 

Union    Pacific     Railroad, 

Running  West  from  Omaha  Across  the  Continent, 

NOW    COMPLETED, 


The  Whole 

Grand    Line    to    the    Pacific 

Expected  to  be 

Opened  through  by  1870. 


FIRST     MORTGAGE     BONDS 

PAY 

Six  Per  Cent,  in  Gold, 

And   are    offered    for    the    present    at  Ninety  Cents   on  the 

Dollar,  and  accrued  interest  at  Six  Per  Cent,  in 

Currency,  from  July  i. 

OVER  NINE  PER  CENT.  INTEREST. 

Subscriptions  ■will  be  received  in  New  York,  at  tbe  Company's  Office,  No* 

SO  Kassaa  at,  and  by 

Continental  National  Bank,  No.  7  Nassau  st., 
Clabk,  Docoe  &  Co.,  Bankers,  No.  51  Wall  st., 
John  J.  Cis^o  &  Son,  Bankers,  No.  33  Wall  st., 

•nd  by  BANKS  and  BANKERS  generally  tlirougbout  tbe  United  States,  of  whom 

maps  and  descriptiyd  pamphlets  may  be  obtained. 

JOHN  J.  CISCO,  Treasurer, 
jg*  New  York. 


PARIS  IN  'Q1.— ANNOUNCEMENTS. 

John  Stephenson  &  Co., 

47  EAST  27TH  STREET,  N.  Y. 
Manufacturers  of 

S  T  RE  ET    CARS 

AND 

OMNIBUSES. 

AWARD    AT    THE 

Paris     Exposition. 


Thirty-six  years'  experience  in  this  peculiar  branch  of 
manufacture,  enables  this  House  to  produce  the  most 
perfect  vehicles  of  their  kind  with  the  greatest  dis- 
patch and  economy,  and  adapted  to  all  markets. 


FABIS  IjST  'qi.—ann'ouncemi:nts. 

Brewster  &  Co.,  of  Broome  St. 

NEW    YORK, 

CARRIAGE  BUILDERS, 

Respectfully  announce  the   opening   of   their  new  and    elegant 
warerooms,  on 

Fifth  Avenue,  Cor.  of  i^th  Street 
(opposite  delmonico's). 


Retaining  their  old  establishment  on  Broome  Street,  where 
for  so  many  years  they  havx  maintained  the  highest  reputation 
for  the  excellence  of  their  work;  and  with  additional  manufac- 
turing facilities,  it  is  their  purpose  to  offer  at  their  Fifth  Avenue 
Warerooms  an  assortment  of  Carriages  in  all  the  fashionable 
styles,  equal  in  every  respect  to  those  made  to  order,  and  ex- 
clusively of  their  own  build. 

Having  no  connection^  with  any  firm  bearing  a  similar  name 
and  dealing  in  Carriages  on  Broadway,  they  beg  their  corre- 
spondents to  be  particular  in  addressing  letters  intended  for  the 
factory  to 

BREWSTER    &    CO., 

Broome  Street,  New  York. 
And  for  the  Warerooms,  to 

BREWSTER   &   COMPANY, 

Fifth  Avenue,  New  York. 


PARIS  IN  '&!.— ANNOUNCEMENTS. 


GURNEY  &  SON, 

707  Broadway,  New  York  City, 

Fine   Art    Photographers, 

WITH  SPECIALTE   OF 
IVORYTYPES, 

IMPERIAL  PHOTOGRAPHS, 

MINIATURES  ON   PORCELAIN, 
"CARTES  IMPERIALE," 

And  CARTES  DE  VISITE. 


FABRONIUS,  GURNEY  &  SON, 

Chromo-Lithographists, 

PUBLISHERS  OF  CHROMO-LITHOGRAPH  OF 
Constant  Mayer's  Celebrated  Picture, 

"LOVE'S     MELANCHOLY," 

As  well  as  other  Celebrated  Subjects. 

707  BROADWAY. 


PARIS  IN  '61.— ANNOUNCEMENTS. 

BRADY'S 

National    Portrait   Gallery, 

No.  785  Broadway,  cor.  10th  St., 
NEW  YORK. 


SPECIALITIES     OF 

IMPERIAL  PHOTOGRAPHS, 

PORCELAIN  MINIATURES, 

CARTES  DE  VISITE,  &c. 

Copying  from  old  Pictures,  Daguerreotypes,  &c- 

Unrivalled  Collection  of  War  Views  and 
National  Portraits. 

JORDAN  &  CO. 

Photograjihic  Establishment^ 

No.  229  GREENWICH  ST., 

Corner  Barclay  St.,  NcW  York. 


SPECIALTE—"  CARTES  DES  VISITES." 


ESTABLISHED  IN   1846. 


PARIS  m  '61.— ANNOUNCEMENTS. 


Lakes  of  Killarney,  Ireland. 


THE  LAKE  HOTEL, 

CASTLELOUGH. 
JAMES  COFFEE,  Proprietor. 


Late  attempts  at  confonndlng  this  well-known  and  pu-mlar  house  with  others 
of  1(88  enviable  reputation  and  less  eli-;ibly  situated,  make  it  imperative  upon 
the  proprietor  to  state  that  this  house,  on  the  very  verge  of  the  LOWER  LAKE 
OF  KILLAKNEY,  and  in  full  view  of  the  grandest  of  the  scenery  of  Uiia 
MATCHLESS  CHAIN  OF  LAKES,  is 

THE  ONLY  LAKE  HOTEL 

properly  entitled  to  that  name. 

Its  advantages  over  all  others  may  be  briefly  stated  in  the  following  table  ol 
distances  of  the  Lake  Hotel  and  certain  other  leading  houses,  from  the  great 
points  of  interest  of  the  Lakes  : 

Lake  House,  Victoria  Hotel.  Kajo-way  Hotel. 


Muckross  Abbey, 
Tore  Waterfall, 
Punch  13ovvl, 
Denis  Island, 
Eagle's  Nest, 
Denycuanihy  ) 
Cascade,        ( 
Mulgr.ivo  Barracks,   10 
Glenna  Bay,  3 

O'Sullivan's  Cascade,  33^ 
Boss  Island,  (land,;      3 
do.  (water,)  1)4 


1  mUe. 
3     " 

5  " 

6  " 
5      " 

8      " 


5  miles 3  miles. 


Gap  of  Dunloe, 
Carranthual, 
Glen  in  Kenmare ) 
Park,  J 

Aghadoe  Kulns, 


li 
16     ' 

3% 

7      ' 


.10 
.  9 

.12 

.U 

.     4: 

.  ^M 
.  3 

IV 
.10 
.12 

.  3V 


.land  only. 
..12  miles. 
..U     " 


"In  point  of  situation  that  of  THE  LAKE  HOTEL  is,  beyond  question,  the 
very  best  at  the  Lakes  of  Killarney.  It  occupies  the  centre  of  the  circle  de- 
scribed by  the  mountain  ranges  of  Mancjerton,  lore,  i:;ii,'le's  .'est,  Purple 
Mountain,  Glena,  Tornies,  Dunlo  Gap  and  Carranthual ;  and  concentrates  in  one 
view  all  that  is  graceful,  picturesque  and  sublime  in  the  scenery  of  Killarney," 
&C.,  &c. — Bradshaiv's  Tourists'  Handbook,  Page  3S2. 

;^»  Accommodates  one  hundred.  Forty  of  the  bedrooms  and  sitting-room'? 
face  the  Lake.  Boats  and  Vehicles  of  every  description  at  moderate  charges. 
May  be  reached  by  trains  from  either  Dublin,  Cork,  or  their  connecaons,  and 

COACHES  FOR  THE  LAKE  HOTEL 

are  always  in  waiting  at  the  Station  at  Killarney  on  arrival  of  the  trains. 

JAMES  COFFEE,  Proprietor. 


PARIS  IN  '&1— ANNOUNCEMENTS. 

GIFTS  TO  SUBSCRIBERS 

TO 

FRANK  LESLIE'S  CHIMNEY  CORNER! 


FRANK  LESLIE'S  CHIMNEY  CORNER,  the  most  successful,  because 
the  most  valuable,  varied,  and  artistically  illustrated  Family  Journal  in  the 
United  States,  has  just  entered  upon  a  Sixth  Volume,  and  will  contain  new 
and  important  features,  the  result  of  a  long  stay  in  Europe  by  Mr.  Leslie,  with 
the  view  of  securing  for  his  publications  every  thing  that  could  enhance  their 
value  and  justify  the  rapid  increase  of  their  popularity. 

TERMS  OF  MR.  LESLIE'S  PUBLICATIONS: 

Frank  Leslie's  Chimney  Corner,  yearly  subscription  .  .  .  $4  oo 
Frank  Leslie's  Illustrated  Paper,  yearly  subscription  ...  4  00 
Frank  Leslie's  Lady's  Magazine,  yearly  subscription       ...        35° 

ELEGANT  INDUCEMENTS  TO  CLUBS. 

Mr.  Leslie  has  imported  from  Italy  admirable  pictures  in  oil,  of  great 
merit,  and  such  as,  from  their  size  and  remarkable  finish,  could  not  be  pur- 
chased for  less  than  seventy-five  or  three  hundred  dollars  each. 

I._«THE  GUITAR  PLAYER,"  byGiuliano.  Size,  10  by  1 2i  inches. 
II, — ««THE  PROMISED  BRIDE;"  a  beautiful  view  on  Lake  Maggiore. 
SizeSJrby  i3.Unches.  III.— "  BREAD  AND  TEARS ;  OR,  THE  LACE 
MAKER."  Size,  18^  by  21^  inches.  IV.— "  THE  FALCONER  AND 
HIS  BRIDE,"   by  Cremona;  a  magnificent  picture,  21  by  28. 

These  admirable  pictures  will  be  given  on  the  following  conditions  : 

I. — Any  one  sending  to  FRANK  LESLIE,  537  Pearl  Street,  New  York, 
three  subscriptions  to  FRANK  LESLIE'S  CHIMNEY  CORNER,  S4; 
ILLUSTRATED  PAPER,  84;  or  LADY'S  MAGAZINE,  S3  50;  or 
one  subscription  to  all  three,  will  be  entitled,  in  addition  to  the  three  Periodi- 
cals, to  one  of  the  fine  Oil-Pictures,  L  or  II.,  "THE  GUITAR  PLAYER," 
or  "  THE  PROMISED  BRIDE,"  at  his  option. 

IL— Any  one  sending  to  FRANK  LESLIE,  537  Pearl  Street,  New  York, 
five  subscriptions  as  above  to  any  one  of  the  Publications,  or  five  in  all,  some 
to  one,  some  to  another,  will  be  entitled  to  a  copy  of  the  elegant  Picture  in 
Oil,  No.  III.,  "BREAD  AND  TEARS." 

III. — Anyone  sending  to  FRANK  LESLIE,  537  Pearl  Street,  New  York, 
ten  subscriptions,  as  above,  will  receive  a  copy  of  Picture  No.  IV.,  the 
highly-finished  and  brilliant  "  FALCONER  AND  HIS  BRIDE." 

Where  several  unite  spontaneously  to  form  a  club,  they  may  decide  by 
lot^who  shall  remain  the  owner  of  the  picture. 

Where  any  one  by  his  own  exertions  gets  up  a  club,  he  may  fairly  retain 
the  picture. 

FRANK  LESLIE,  537  Pearl  St.    New  York. 


PARIS  IN  'ei.— ANNOUNCEMENTS. 
THE  GREATEST  AMERICAN  IDEA, 

NOT 

Shown  at  the  Paris  Exposition, 

WAS  THE 

AMERICAN   SYSTEM 

OF 

MUTUAL    LIFE    ASSURANCE, 

OF  WHICH 

The  Best  Exponent 

IS  THE 

EQUITABLE    LIFE    ASSURANCE    ASSO- 
CIATION, 

Office  No.  92  Broadway,  New  York. 

WILLIAM  C.  ALEXANDER,  President. 
HENRY  B.  HYDE,  Vice-Pre«ident. 
GEO.  W.  PHILLIPS,  Actuary. 
JAMES  W.  ALEXANDER,  Secretary. 


Assets — $5,000,000.     Income — $3,000,000. 

Policies  during    1866 — $30,000,000. 


All   the    most   desirable   and   popular   kinds  of  LIFE  AND 
ENDOWMENT  POLICIES  issued,  and  every 
advantage  appertaining  to  the  business 
granted  to  Policy  Holders. 
PURELY  MUTUAL. 
The  Charter  of  the  Society  requires  that  all  Profits  go  to  the 
Assured. 
DIVIDENDS    DECLARED  ANNUALLY, 
And  applied  as  cash  to  the  reduction  of  fatnre  premiums.    Dividends  tipon 
the  fljst  year's  premium  may  be  applied  to  reducing  the  second  year's  pre- 
mium, and  so  on  annually  thereafter. 
The  Assured  have  the  option  annually  of  applying  these  dividends  in  any  of 

the  Five  FOLLowma  Wats,  under  the  rules  of  the  Society: 
FiBST — To  the  permanent  increase  of  the  eum  assured; 
Second — To  the  increase  of  the  sum  assured  for  one  year  or  a  term  of  yean; 
Thibd — To  the  permanent  reduction  of  the  premiums; 
FouBTH — To  the  reduction  of  the  premiums  for  one  or  more  years; 
Futh — To  the  reduction  of  the  number  of  years  in  which  premionu  ue  to  bs 
pud. 


r 


I 


D  1 


.^jim'x^ 


GETTY  CENTER  LIBRARY  '  v 

lllliliiiilililllllliilllllilli 

3  3125  00107  2756 


'loO 


i(Js':>y  .•;«•,»«[>*>;>':->  t] 


w^^li^m^'m. 


Bm 


^<ii^& 


Siilil 


%J^ 


m 


^y 


vm 


